


Of Fake Boyfriends and Bad Pick-Up Lines

by Weasleychick32



Series: Of Pick-Up Lines Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Bakery Shop Owner Gabriel (Supernatural), Castiel is a Little Shit, Dean is So Whipped, Dean is a Bad Influence, Demisexual Sam, Denial of Feelings, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gabriel is a Good Friend, Gabriel is a Softie, Karaoke, Lawyer Sam Winchester, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mutual Pining, POV Sam Winchester, Pansexual Gabriel, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Sam Is So Done, Sleepovers, Underwear Theft, desecration of perfectly good chinese food, sam is oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 07:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10917309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weasleychick32/pseuds/Weasleychick32
Summary: Sam is sick and tired of Dean and Cas being nauseatingly lovey-dovey and having sexliterally everywhere. In the name of revenge, he comes up with a plot to 1) Fake date the only person who can consistently and without fail get under Dean’s skin and 2) Obnoxiously flaunt the relationship in his face every chance he gets. He pitches the plan to Gabriel (who else could be up for the task?) and between one blink and the next everything has spiraled out of control; One dinner date turns into dozens and, what the hell? They aren’t even double dates anymore, they’re just…dates.How did this happen? More importantly, why hasn’t Sam put a stop to it? As the weeks pass, his list ofReasons Sam+Gabe Could Never Ever Not-In-This-Lifetime Ever Workgrows larger and so does his unwillingness to put a stop to their prank.It is still a prank… Right?





	1. If you’re feeling down I can feel you up

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! This is my submission for the Ace Spn Mini Bang. Also, deadpoolsdickwarmer, the artist I was paired with this year made a Spotify playlist (how cool is that!!) that I hope you'll all [check out](https://open.spotify.com/user/1220885119/playlist/6w6XGGHwhAHdfGEgmqFyHk). It's wonderful!
> 
> I'd also like to throw a shout out to jeweldancer for stepping up and betaing for me. THANK YOU SO MUCH!! It was her first time so be kind and know that any and all mistakes are my own.
> 
> NOT TO BE FORGOTTEN, a huuuugeee thank you to a couple of commenters on Of Notecards and Bad Pick-Up Lines, fictionalguysarethebest and Sensula, for sparking the inspiration for this fic. Two years wasn't too long of a wait, right? Anyway, YOU TWO ROCK!!! I hope your little sabriel shipping hearts enjoy the sequel <3
> 
> Lastly, I made The List (below) because I was bored and have no self-control. I hope you find it as amusing as I do :)

In the end, the laundry room incident is the final straw and Sam’s tolerance for his brother’s PDA is the camel’s back. What eats at Sam the most is that he would have never known about it had Cas been a better liar, or at least better at omitting certain painful truths that should remain unsaid and, most importantly, unimagined. God knows Dean never would have given anything away on his own, accomplished con-man that he is.

As it stands, Cas’s deer in the headlights look sends warning bells clanging in Sam’s head and the nonchalant way Dean takes another swig of his beer confirms that something is very wrong here.

“Cas,” Sam starts slowly. “What do you know about my washing machine being off balance?”

Cas is sitting perfectly still, save a fleeting, desperate glance towards Dean, but Sam already knows. He knew before he asked. Hell, he probably knew the second the repairman asked if Sam had been bumping into the machine or leaning against it. He just didn’t want to have to believe it.

Sam leans across the table on his elbows and hisses, “You two fucked against my washing machine!”

Dean shushes him immediately, casting a concerned glance around the crowded pub in a way that, yeah okay, normally Sam would find cute because it’s not like Dean is concerned for himself or his own image; he only cares because he knows the spotlight makes Cas uncomfortable.

Yeah they were cute for the first two weeks in how they gravitate to the other and seem to intuitively know what the other needs, but it’s been almost two years now and Sam has _had it_. They fucked against his washing machine! He and Dean haven’t even lived together for _months_ now. Sam moved out into a small apartment of his very own after walking in on Dean and Cas _doing things_ a time too many, on the goddamn kitchen table for fuck’s sake. Which begs the question…

“When did you even-? No, never mind. I don’t want to know,” Sam interrupts himself. As he takes a long drink of his beer a sudden memory surfaces; Dean and Cas wild haired and smiling, reappearing just in time to open presents after being suspiciously absent from Sam’s living room on Christmas morning. They’d left him _alone_ with _Gabriel_ on _Christmas_ so they could _fuck against his washing machine_.

“That repair cost me over $300!” Sam bursts. For something as simple as adjusting the length of the machine’s legs, he could have fixed it on his own for free. Cas winces a bit, but Dean is just grinning that infuriating smug grin he gets when he’s successfully swindled hard earned money from people who don’t know any better in a game of pool. Sam clenches his jaw and glares.

“Aww, ‘s’not like you can’t afford it, lawyer boy,” Dean mocks with a condescending pat to Sam’s forearm. Sam jerks his arm away and Dean keeps talking. “Besides, it’s not like you’re doing anything with all the money you’re making by working all those hours. You don’t even have a girl to treat to dinner or a movie.”

Sam rolls his eyes to the ceiling and leans back to slouch against the back of the booth, fully intending to ignore his brother until the subject is changed. It doesn't take long for Cas to intervene, changing the subject from Sam’s lack of a life by asking Dean about the car he’s currently restoring. Sam tunes him out as Dean begins rambling on about upholstery and wiring; he’s heard it all before. Cas probably has too, but he sits quietly and listens like there’s nothing else he’d rather hear about. There probably isn’t.

Sam rolls his eyes and drinks some more of his beer. It’s been a year and Dean still hasn’t forgiven him for “letting Jess get away”. The truth of it is Sam’s career is just starting to take off and it’s requiring a lot from him. Jess wanted things that he can’t give right now... like his time. So they agreed to break it off. It was an easy decision in the end, and hey, who knows? Maybe they’ll run into each other in ten years or so and pick things back up again. Maybe by then Sam will be settled in his career and won’t have to work so many extra hours trying to earn the trust of his superiors and making a name for himself.

Either way, neither of them were all that upset about ending things before they got too serious. But Dean… Dean took it a lot harder than either of the two actually involved in the relationship. Apparently Sam’s never going to find someone as perfect as Jess ever again for the rest of his days and he’s going to die alone with his diploma.

Maybe that’s true, but Sam figures if he and Jess really had something special, he wouldn’t have let her go so easily, but Dean can’t get over it. Sam even considered bringing other people around just to make Dean see that he’s moving on, whether he’s ready for him to or not. After this incident, maybe that’s exactly what Dean deserves.

Sam could pretend to be in a happy fulfilling relationship that’s not with Jess and then Dean would be forced to let it go. That’s not big enough though. It’s not even close to being revenge for his brother fucking his boyfriend against _Sam’s_ washing machine. Maybe… Maybe if Sam found the _right_ person, someone the complete opposite of Jess, someone who would drive Dean absolutely crazy... Someone like…

Sam’s phone buzzes on the tabletop. With a frown, he and sits forward. He’s already worked 70 hours this week. They couldn’t possibly need him to— Oh.

“Work?” Dean breaks free from his and Cas’s soulful staring contest to ask. Sam shakes his head.

“Gabriel.”

Dean makes a face but doesn’t comment and Cas can’t seem to care less. He just plays with the label of his beer and stares absently out the window. Or maybe he’s listening intently? Sam doesn’t know. Even after all this time he finds Cas hard to read, not that Dean has ever had the same trouble.

Sam doesn’t know how Gabriel got his number (he certainly didn’t give it to him) but he texts Sam every few days with a picture of a cat or a new pickup line or some other inane thing. You never know with him. Usually, Sam just ignores him knowing that if he replies, no matter how dry and sarcastic the response, Gabriel will only feed off it and the texts will continue to grow raunchier and more suggestive until Sam stops answering.

This one is a seemingly nonsensical question (it’s funny how many start off that way).

Gabriel: _what’s ur fav silverware_

Sam waits and a moment later, just as he expects, the follow-up arrives.

Gabriel: _bc I like to spoon!_

Sam rolls his eyes and locks the screen on his phone before setting it back on the table. Typical. Well, actually it’s not as dirty as a lot of the pickup lines Gabriel has used on him in the past, but it’s still well within the range of normal. Dean always hates it when Gabriel uses the sexual lines on Sam; sometimes Sam thinks they bother Dean more than they do him. Sure, Gabriel’s annoying, but he’s just being Gabriel.Sam learned not to take him seriously a long time ago but still, it’s fun to watch Dean get all flustered and try to shoo Gabriel away from him.

This thought gives Sam some pause. Maybe… No, that would be borrowing trouble, wouldn’t it? And no way could Gabriel play along without giving away the game. Or could he? Gabriel likes to think of himself as some sort of prank master extraordinaire. The real trouble would be with Gabriel playing _too_ enthusiastically, but Sam could handle him. Besides it couldn’t possibly be much different from what Gabriel already pulls with him. The only difference would be possibly more touching… Sam could handle it.

Sam hides his mischievous grin by putting his lips around the rim of his beer bottle and taking a long pull. Dean’s not gonna know what hit him.

**.**

**~*~**

**.**

The next morning, Sam composes 50 variations of the same text then, deletes them all and instead takes the 20 minute drive across town to Gabriel’s bakery. It’s nice out and he hasn’t received any phone calls from the office for once so he rolls the windows down and takes his time.

When he arrives, he steps through the glass door and is wracked with regret before the overhead bell stops jingling.

“Samsquatch!” Gabriel chirps from the other side of the counter. “I knew you’d come around eventually!”

The customer in front of him takes their doggie bag and makes for the door, giving Sam a once over as they go. Gabriel props his elbows on the counter and rests his chin in his hands as his eyes leisurely rake up and down Sam’s body.

“Did you look in the mirror and finally see how good we’d fit together? You: tall and strong. Me: soft and spry.”

A quick glance around reveals an empty shop with no one around to take offense to Gabriel’s unprofessional come-ons.

“Ha ha,” Sam says dryly. “Hey, you’re into pranks, right?”

Gabriel straightens and clutches at his chest in outrage. “ _Into pranks_ ? Sammy, sweetheart, I’m the _king_ of pranks.”

“Don’t call me Sammy,” Sam corrects reflexively.

Gabriel drops the act and grins like a shark, all teeth. “But I can call you sweetheart?”

Sam purses his lips. “That’s actually what I came to talk about,” he admits, scrunching his nose. On a normal day he can take Gabriel’s overinflated ego in short, well distributed bursts. He’s not looking forward to being the one doing the inflating and then spending more time with him than he ever has in the past.

“You… what?” Gabriel asks, face curiously blank.

“I need your help with a prank,” Sam explains. “I wanna get back at Dean for being gross with Cas all the time and I, uh, need a partner.”

Gabriel blinks and in an instant his cheerful, devil-may-care attitude is back. He leans an elbow on the counter and quirks an eyebrow.

“You want my help with a prank on Dean that somehow involves calling you sweetheart? Love muffin, did you even have to ask?”

Sam pulls a face. “Stick to sweetheart.”

.

~*~

.

Sam is nervous. It’s not first date jitters, but more of a bone-deep, solid mass in the pit of his stomach _dread_. He regretted involving Gabriel the second that Cheshire Cat grin split his face in the bakery. He wanted to say he changed his mind and run for his life. Instead, he planted his feet and spelled out the bare bones plan he’d come up with the night before and when Gabriel suggested they go bigger, he stood his ground and Gabriel backed off.

Sam had second thoughts before ever walking away from that counter, third thoughts that night in bed, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh thoughts for every night in between then and now while he and Gabriel hashed out their backstory via text, because dammit, if he’s going to go through with this he’s doing it right. There will be no winging it and hoping for the best. He needs facts. Well, they’re made up facts, but still.

Now… Now those thoughts have morphed into full-on misgivings. This is all going to blow up in his face, he’s sure of it, but it’s too late to back out now.

While Gabriel isn’t technically _late_ , Cas and Dean are already inside The Roadhouse making some very serious goo-goo eyes at each other over rapidly warming beer while Sam, having elected to wait outside instead of subjecting himself to _that_ any longer than absolutely necessary, checks his phone for the fourth time in as many minutes. Still nothing.

A taxi pulls up to the curb in front of him, crunching over the dusting of sand left behind after months of winter weather. The backdoor pops open and spits out Gabriel, waving cheerfully to the driver who calls back something that makes Gabriel laugh and tip him an extra dollar. Gabriel’s proclivity to making friends everywhere he goes is a talent Sam normally envies, but tonight it’s irritating.

“About time,” Sam grumbles as Gabriel skips merrily over.

“Au contraire my dearest Sammoose. I’m an entire two minutes early.”

“Whatever. Let’s just get this over with,” Sam mutters and turns for the door.

“Aww, muffin. I didn’t take you as a first date nerves kinda guy,” Gabriel coos as he almost jogs to keep up with Sam’s long easy strides.

“It’s not our first date and don’t call me muffin.”

“Right, right. We’ve been secretly dating for months now because you’re ashamed of me. My bad, I forgot.” Gabriel rolls his eyes and follows him into the restaurant. Their usual table is around the corner to the right, opposite the pool tables with the bar located smack in the middle. The hardwood floors gleam more than usual. Ellen must have had them waxed before she and Jo went on their much needed vacation. Idly, he hopes they haven’t killed each other yet.

“I’m not ashamed—,”

“Uh huh. Right, yeah. You just weren’t ready to come out to your brother and his _boyfriend_. Got it.”

Sam turns sharply to face Gabriel right before they round the corner to where Dean and Cas are waiting. “Are you in this for real or not? If you’re not taking this seriously we should just quit now,” he hisses.

Gabriel rolls his eyes. “It’s called having fun, Sammy. You’ve heard of it haven’t you? _Fun?_ ”

“I’m serious, Gabriel.”

“So am I.” Gabriel looks him dead in the eye, easy smile gone. “This is serious to me too, Sam. Don’t think it isn’t because I look happy. In fact, you could stand to learn a little lesson from me. This is supposed to be a date, isn’t it? Not an execution. Lighten up. _Smile_ , for fuck’s sake.”

Sam releases a pent-up breath and relaxes the clenched muscles in his shoulders. He’s right, damn him. It’s only a date, a fake one at that. There’s no reason for him to be this high strung over it. Whatever happens is going to happen so he might as well roll with the punches. Either Dean falls for it, or he calls them out. No big deal either way. It’s fine… Everything’s fine.

“Alright. Fun. I can do fun.”

Gabriel’s grin is back as he socks Sam in the shoulder. “Atta moose! Now let’s go be disgustingly coupled in front of the most disgusting couple we know, honeybunch!”

Sam groans. “Only if you quit it with the food inspired pet names.”

Gabriel looks scandalized. “They’re the best ones!”

“They’re really not.”

Gabriel mulls it over before finally nodding. “Anything for you, _sweet cheeks_. I always enjoy the chance to flex my creative muscles.”

Sam rolls his eyes and leads the way around the corner. “Save it for the dinner table, would you?”

Sam knows the exact moment Dean catches sight of Gabriel. Technically, Cas sees him first and nudges Dean with his elbow to get his attention and then frowns their way once he has it. Dean lifts his head and starts to smile, but then his eyes slide past Sam and the smile drops.

 _Good_.

“Did your date bail?” Dean blurts before Sam even manages to sit down. Sam shoots him a sour look and slides onto the bench opposite Dean and Cas, scooting to the wall to make room for Gabriel.

“You always have the best jokes, Dean-o,” Gabriel says and wedges himself against Sam’s side. “Oh, did I say best? I meant worst.”

Dean ignores him, staring imploringly at Sam while Cas squints at Gabriel as though trying to read his mind.

“What’s going on?” Dean demands.

“Exactly what it looks like,” Sam says like his heart isn’t about to beat out of his chest.

Gabriel told him to be obstinate, that their ruse would only be believable if Sam took the offensive because that’s how he is when there’s something he wants and someone stands in his way. It’s how he was about college and his career, so it stands to reason that it would hold true for his choice of significant other as well.

Sam didn’t ask how Gabriel managed to get to know him so well, but he did ensure that all of his blinds were firmly shut before going to sleep.

“It looks like Gabriel is the secret girlfriend you’ve been dating behind my back for months.”

“Oooo, so close Dean-o. You were only off by one tippy tappy little detail,” Gabriel says whilst nonchalantly flipping through his menu.

“Shut up,” Dean orders with a terse finger in Gabriel’s face.

“Gabriel is my boyfriend. Is that an issue?” Sam cuts in. He holds his breath as emotions flicker across Dean’s face until he settles into a pinched expression.

“I thought you hated him.”

“Ouch, don’t hold back.”

Dean ignores Gabriel. “He’s been throwing himself at you forever. Even before me and Cas met. You told me he was annoying and creepy.”

“Okay, maybe hold back a little,” Gabriel grumbles, frowning at his menu now.

“That was before I got to know him better,” Sam argues. He deliberately places a hand on Gabriel’s thigh. “All thanks to you two always ditching us together to go…”

“Fuck against your washing machine,” Dean supplies with an unrepentant smirk.

“ _Yes_ ,” Sam hisses while Gabriel barks a laugh and sets aside the menu. He always gets the chicken strips. Sam’s not sure why he bothers looking every time.

“When did you manage that? Oh no, wait. Let me guess...” Gabriel snaps his fingers, “Christmas.”

“You knew?!” Sam accuses.

“Sammy, sweetheart, they were gone ‘making popcorn’ for 20 minutes and when they got back they were glowing and lacking in fresh popcorn. Also, Cas was wearing one of your shirts, the purple on with the dog on it, so there’s that.”

Sam turns to Cas in betrayal, not that Cas has the decency to look properly ashamed. He just tips his head to the side and says earnestly and perhaps a touch defensive, “I returned it”.

“But... You don’t just...”

“You folks ready to order?”

“Yes, please,” Sam sighs gratefully. This date can’t be over soon enough. While the waitress takes down Dean’s order Gabriel nudges Sam with his elbow and stretches up to whisper in his ear.

“Have I ever told you how cute you are when you get all righteous?”

Sam surprises himself by ducking his head as he bites back a smile. It’s all part of the act, he reminds himself as he laces his fingers between Gabriel’s and avoids Cas’s analytical stare only to find Dean staring as well. He looks less constipated now and more assessing.

Sam and Gabriel quickly rattle off their orders to the waitress and once she’s on her way, Sam turns to Dean. “What?” he snaps.

Dean seems to push away whatever he’s thinking with a shake of his head. “Nothin’, just… If you’re serious about this then… okay.”

“Excuse me?” Sam says weakly.

“You heard me. It’s about time you got out there again and if it’s Gabriel that does it for you, then fine. Whatever.” Dean turns to Gabriel. “If you hurt my brother, I kill you. Get me?”

“You’ve got nothin’ to worry about Dean-o,” Gabriel blusters. “Your baby bro here has me wrapped around his finger and he doesn’t even know it.”

“We’ll see about that,” Dean mutters, but lets the subject drop. Cas shoots Gabriel a strange piercing look and then asks Dean about the 1960 something Ford Mustang Shelby that had been brought in to be restored the day before. It’s the right thing to ask to get Dean off Sam and Gabriel for a few minutes. Dean lights up and begins babbling enthusiastically; Sam only manages to catch a few keywords like ‘red leather interior’ and ‘Cobra valve covers’ and blah blah _blah_.

Gabriel leans in to whisper, forcing Sam to hunch to hear him. “It’s not working. We’ve gotta go bigger. Damn Castiel for mellowing out your meathead brother.”

Sam snorts and sits back up to his full height. He’s not sure he wants to encourage Gabriel, but he’s not wrong. Dean’s somewhat easy acceptance of their “relationship” directly contradicts their end game.

Across the table, Dean and Cas have stalled out in their conversation and now appear to be lost in each other’s eyes, completely oblivious to him and Gabriel. Sam sighs and the regret grows roots.

“Do your worst,” he says lowly. Gabriel beams at him and before Sam can process what’s happening, Gabriel rocks up and plants a quick kiss to his lips.

“BRB. Gonna hit up the little boys’ room.” He winks as he slips out of the booth and disappears into the dinner crowd. Sam doesn’t realize he’s staring after him until Dean clears his throat.

“Sooo,” Dean says with an edge.

“So,” Sam echoes.

Cas watches, a slight furrow between his brow like he doesn’t understand and is waiting for an explanation.

“How’d this happen?” Dean asks. “I swear just last week you were complaining about how immature he is.”

“He is immature,” there’s no getting around that, “but you tell me all the time I need to lighten up and live a little. Gabriel helps me do that.”

“Really,” Dean replies flatly.

“Yes,” Sam insists.

“How?”

“Like this!”

Sam startles as Gabriel, freshly returned from the shortest bathroom break in the history of the world, slaps a handful of tickets onto the tabletop and plops beside Sam on the bench in one motion. Sam eyes the red carnival style tickets with trepidation.

“What are those?”

“Karaoke night!” Gabriel crows. “I saw the sign on the way in. Starts at seven and I got a ticket for each of us.”

“Pass,” Dean and Sam say in unison. As long as they’ve known Ellen and frequented The Roadhouse, they’ve always managed to avoid karaoke night. With Ellen and Jo being away on vacation, they thought they were safe. Clearly, they failed to plug Gabriel into the equation.

“Aww c’mon, Sammy. This’ll make me so happy. You want to make me happy don’t you?”

“Sometimes I wonder,” Sam mutters through clenched teeth. He sighs. “Fine.” He’s going to kill him.

“I knew you loved me.” Gabriel flutters his eyelashes.

“Well Cas ‘n me are out. No way,” Dean says emphatically.

“I’d like to try it,” Cas says. Dean gapes at him, betrayed. “I’ve never done karaoke before. It could be fun.”

“It’s an exercise in public humiliation,” Dean insists.

“I want to,” Cas says simply and reaches past Dean for a ticket.

“Fine!” Dean bursts and grabs two tickets from the pile. “ _Fine_ , I’ll do the stupid karaoke with you.”

“You don’t have to,” Cas says, but he looks so happy in his quietly pleased way that there’s no way Dean could take it back now. As Sam watches, Dean hard lines soften to mere disgruntlement rather than anger. The first time Sam witnessed Cas’s influence over his brother in this way he knew Cas was here to stay.

“You two better go pick your songs. The DJ said anyone who doesn’t put in a request gets Rick Astley by default,” Gabriel inserts before they get sucked into whatever dimension swallows them up whenever they make prolonged eye contact.

“Fuck _that_ ! C’mon Cas. I betcha we can get _Eye of the Tiger_.”

Dean slides off the bench and Cas follows after. “I think I’d prefer something else.”

Dean stops in his tracks. “What? You love _Eye of the Tiger_ ,” he says like an accusation.

Cas stands up and neither seem to notice that they’re only a solid inch and a half away from each other, so close that they’re practically going cross-eyed.

“We don’t have to sing at the same time,” Cas says simply. “I wish to select a song in line with my own musical preference is all.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “Fine, goddamit. You can pick, but I get to give the final okay, capisce?”

Cas smiles. “Yes, I capisce, Dean.”

Dean nods as though the problem is resolved, but his face is set like he’s walking into battle. Before they head off to the bar to track down the DJ, he stops to shove a finger in Gabriel’s face and growls, “I hate you,” before linking his fingers with Cas and stalking off.

“Back on track,” Gabriel says with a smug smile. Sam doesn’t respond, choosing instead to glare silently. “Aww c’mon Sammy-wammy bear. It’s all part of the plan, right? What’s more disgustingly coupley than a duet?”

Sam sighs, mouth twisted into a disgruntled frown. “Alright, fine.”

“That’s the spirit.” Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Who knows, maybe you’ll accidentally have fun while we’re at it.”

Sam snorts. “Clearly you’ve never heard Dean try to carry a tune.”

“He sings all the time!”

“Yeah, to songs that require lung capacity and enthusiasm over skill.”

“Oh it can’t be that bad,” Gabriel says, dismissive. “Cassie ain’t exactly the next Queen Latifah either.”

“You’ll see. Should we go pick our song too? Our food’ll be here soon.”

“Already taken care of, Sambo,” Gabriel says with a shark-like smile. Sam’s heart drops.

When their food arrives it tastes like anxiety.

.

~*~

.

Dinner passes quickly.

Cas and Dean are too busy plotting their act and scarfing burgers to pay any attention to how close Sam and Gabriel sit or even to Gabriel feeding Sam his fries or their two-strawed milkshake. Sam scowls when he notices Cas got pickles on his burger only to pick them off and pass them to Dean who happily gobbles them up and thanks Cas with a stupid gummy smile.

They’re so effortlessly perfect for each other it’s nauseating. There’s no way he and Gabriel can keep up.

“OH! Ooo, it’s starting!” Gabriel interrupts Sam’s internal musings by grabbing his hand and pulling. “Let’s go to the bar. I want to see.”

Sam rolls his eyes, but allows himself to be tugged along. He looks back to Dean and Cas once he’s on his feet and quirks an eyebrow.

“Coming?”

“I want to be as far away from that trainwreck as possible, for as long as possible,” Dean says with feeling.

“I’m sure they won’t be that bad,” Sam says. “At least it’s not late enough for anyone to be drunk yet.”

Dean smirks. “I was talking about Gabe.”

“You wound me, Dean-o,” Gabriel says, dramatically putting a hand to his chest only to almost immediately drop the act and turn to Sam. “C’mon sugarplum, let’s leave the wet blankets in peace.”

Sam sighs. “Again with the food names.”

“Sugarplums are food?”

Sam shoots him a look. “Yes? They’re sugared plums? What did you thi-,”

“Darling. Sunshine. Dearheart. _Let’s go!_ The music is starting,” Gabriel whines.

“Alright, alright. See you guys later,” he says to Dean and Cas.

“Goodbye,” Cas says, serious as ever.

“Watch your drink,” Dean says with a significant look towards Gabriel. Sam shoots him a nasty look, but Gabriel smirks.

“Looking forward to your performance, Deany-weany. Sammy says it’ll be memorable, but I think I’ll record it for posterity’s sake anyhow.”

“Fuck off,” Dean snaps.

Gabriel laughs and resumes his efforts to get Sam to the bar. Sam winces as the girl on stage attempts the high notes in _Seasons of Love_ and settles onto the bar stool beside Gabriel’s.

“Shouldn’t we be staying with them?” Sam asks. “The point is to flaunt our relationship in his face.”

“The point,” Gabriel corrects, “is to piss him off. Nothing sets off your big bro like someone commandeering his baby brother out from under his nose. You didn’t even put up a fight. That’s gotta rankle.”

Gabriel grins and wiggles his fingers in a mockery of a wave over Sam’s shoulder, towards where they left Dean and Cas. Sam doesn’t look, but he can imagine the glower on Dean’s face and concedes that Gabriel may have a point.

The first performance of the evening is well underway at this point and while it’s not pleasant to listen to, he can appreciate the enthusiasm and applauds when the final notes fade from the stage-side speakers. The next act is better; they have a nice voice and a decent range, but they chose a ballad and not even a good one.

Sam waves over the bartender. He doesn’t recognize her. She must be the new hire Ellen told him about.

“Good thinkin’,” Gabriel says. “Always knew you were a smart cookie- that does not count as a pet name by the way.”

He starts describing a complicated concoction to the poor girl. After the shaved ice, kosher salt, and umbrella she takes out a notepad and starts writing it down. Sam can’t help but to visualize the look of disdain that would grace Ellen’s face right before she handed him a bottle of beer had Gabriel attempted to pull this on her.

Once Gabriel is satisfied she turns to Sam and raises one finely penciled eyebrow.

“Uh, just whatever’s on tap is fine.”

“Barbarian,” Gabriel mutters.

“If you want to spit in his, I’d understand,” Sam tells her, using his patent pending _Puppy Dog Eyes_. That prompts a small smile before she tucks away her notepad and grabs a glass.

“Aww c’mon snookums. Live a little,” Gabriel complains.

Sam shakes his head. “I intend to, which is why I’m going to steer clear of that sugar festival you call a drink.”

“Oh please. Like your yeasty skunk water is any better.”

“My _yeasty skunk water_ isn’t going to give me Type 2 diabetes, so yeah. I’d call that better.”

“No, instead it’ll give you _liver failure_.”

“Oh I’m sorry, how many hard liquors are in that disaster? I lost count. Was it 3? Or 4?”

“Hey, Kali is perfect just the way she is.”

Sam closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please tell me you didn’t refer to your drink as a person, the Hindu goddess associated with eternal energy and death, nonetheless.”

“Whoa, slow down there big boy. You know it gets my motor revving when you show off that big nerd brain of yours. This is a _family_ restaurant.”

Sam rolls his eyes. _Only until 9:00_ , he thinks and accepts his beer from the bartender in exchange for a ten and five ones to cover his and Gabriel’s drinks and tip. He turns back to face the stage and almost gets a neon pink umbrella to the eye for his trouble.

“Hey!”

“Try it,” Gabriel insists, shoving the drink closer to his face. Sam eyes it warily. It’s an unnatural shade of green with a ball of shaved ice floating in the middle and salt crystals clinging to the rim. The umbrella tops the glass, a cherry speared on the stick, along with a double looped straw that Sam is 90% sure didn’t come from the bar.

“What’s the point of the salt if you’re drinking from a straw?”

“There’s that brain again,” Gabriel gushes looking delighted. “The straw is for me. The salt is for you.” He presses the drink closer. “Please? Dean is watching.”

Sam wrinkles his nose, but accepts the glass. “That is the weirdest persuasive argument I’ve ever heard, and I went to law school.” Gabriel just grins. WIth a sigh, Sam uses his finger to hold the straw and umbrella to the side and takes a sip. His mouth immediately puckers and Gabriel laughs, clapping his hands together gleefully. Sam manages to swallow and passes the glass back.

“So?” Gabriel presses once his giggle fit subsides.

“It’s really sweet,” Sam manages after an unpleasant swig of beer to try and clear the flavor. “The sour was a surprise, and the salt was a good idea. It really tamped down the whole ‘ _I’m drinking high fructose corn syrup in its purest form_ ’ vibe.”

Gabriel sips his drink, watching Sam with suddenly serious eyes. He takes his lips off the crazy straw and licks them once.

“We should kiss,” he says.

“What? Why?” Sam asks dumbly. Something in Gabriel’s expression flickers before settling into a lazy grin.

“We’ve gotta seal the deal, don’t we? Dean’s gonna be suspicious if we keep playing Platonic Patty’s over here.”

“You already kissed me though.”

“Yeah and you looked surprised as hell.” Gabriel leans forward, eyes bright. “Now _you_ need to kiss _me_.” He leans back and smirks. “And make it romantic would you? I’ve got needs.”

Sam swallows thickly, mouth dry. The first time wasn’t so bad, he reasons. It’s just Gabriel. Then again, last time it was over before he knew it and this is _Gabriel_ ; the sugar addicted man-child who texts him raunchy pick up lines at least three times a week without any regard for normal sleeping hours. Speaking of…

“You haven’t used a single pick up line on me all night,” Sam comments. Gabriel raises his eyebrows.

“I thought you didn’t like my pick up lines. I was trying to be a model boyfriend.”

For some reason, the word ‘boyfriend’ sends a rush of heat up the back of Sam’s neck. _Fake boyfriend._

Gabriel’s eyes widen a fraction and then a sly smile creeps over his face.

“ _I knew it_. You are totally into my pick-up lines.”

“I never said-,”

“Did you have Lucky Charms for breakfast, because you look magically delicious.”

“Gabriel, seriously,” Sam complains with a self-conscious glance at the bartender who isn’t paying them any mind and hasn’t been since she got their money.

“Shh Sammy, I’ve been sitting on these all night,” Gabriel pleads, and puts a hand on Sam’s knee. “If you were a fruit, you’d be a _fine_ apple.”

“Gabe-,”

“Actually no. You must be a banana because I find you a _peel_ ing.”

“That was horrible.”

“Kiss me if I’m wrong, but dinosaurs still exist, righ-,”

Sam throws caution into the wind, fists his hand into the front of Gabriel’s button up, and pulls him in for a searing kiss. Their lips crash together a little too hard and awkwardly since Gabriel was talking, but they recover quickly. Soft, warm, and sticky sweet. Gabriel kisses like he’s starving for it. Keeping his eyes screwed shut, Sam leans into the kiss.

Gabriel sucks in a sharp breath through his nose and pulls back just as the DJ calls out the number for the next act to take the stage.

“I think that’s Cas and Dean,” he says, voice a little rough, but otherwise not acting at all like he just got the bajesus kissed out of him.

Sam blinks rapidly and draws in a deep breath as he follows Gabriel’s gaze to the stage, his cheeks hot.

 _Stage_ is something of a strong word, he thinks. It’s really just a clear square of floor with a microphone stand, a pair of boxy speakers courtesy of a garage sale a few years ago, and a screen used to display the lyrics for the performers. Sure enough, as Gabriel suspected, Cas and Dean enter stage left. Dean seeks them out in the crowd and once he spots them he glares, whether because Gabriel roped them into this or because he saw them kissing, Sam can’t be sure.

Should they kiss again?

Sam shakes off the errant thought. He still hasn’t recovered from the first. Lips tingling and mind racing, he tries to get himself under control. He feels like running. There’s no one looking his way, yet he feels like everyone is staring. It’s ridiculous. It was only a kiss, just because he hardly knows Gabriel doesn’t mean he needs to run out screaming.

Still, he doesn’t ever kiss on a first date. There has to be some substance to the relationship before he’s ready to initiate anything physical. Not that that’s what this is. It’s still _Gabriel_ and it’s still a _fake_ relationship. Besides, him and Gabriel could never work for real. Gabriel would have to take it seriously for one thing and for another… well, Sam could compile a list of all the reasons they would never work out and by the end it would be extensive.

Item number two would be the height difference followed by Gabriel’s alcohol preferences.

The music starts and Gabriel bursts into laughter. “That love sick idiot actually let Cassie pick! Oh this is going to be hilarious! Where’s my phone?”

As Gabriel scrambles to get his phone out of his jacket pocket Sam finally places the song. When he does, a slow smile curves his lips.

“Cas is a Natasha Bedingfield fan?”

“Huge,” Gabriel confirms, distracted as he unlocks his phone and tries to get it set to record before the singing starts. “He has ‘great admiration and respect’ for all those big voiced women. You should see him when Beyoncé comes on.”

“You should see Dean when Taylor Sw-,”

“Shhh!” Gabriel hisses as he taps the Record button. Sam rolls his eyes, but stays quiet, even while Gabriel keeps up a steady whispered commentary. It doesn’t take long for Sam to finally calm down and feel less like his skin is trying to crawl off his body.

“Jesus Christ, you were right. Dean’s terrible. Cassie’s hardly any better, but at least he knows the words. Ugh, they’re so gross in their domestic bliss.”

They really are gross. It’s clear Dean doesn’t know any of the lyrics from the way he frowns in concentration at the screen and mumbles along until the chorus. Only then does he look away, to Cas, where they then proceed to make goo goo eyes at each other while crooning, “ _IloveyouIloveyouIloveyooou_ ” out of key and off beat, but somehow in harmony.

What should be a horrible, _painful_ rendition of _These Words_ , is somehow sweet and heartwarming thanks to the shy glances, pleased smiles, and obvious love shared between Dean and Cas.

“Ugh. This is giving me a cavity,” Gabriel complains.

Sam snorts. “It’s probably aggravating the one you already have from all of the sugar you eat.”

“I brush my teeth,” Gabriel says, indignant.

“Sure, but-,”

“And floss!”

“Alright, but-,”

“AND I use mouthwash.”

“That’s fine, but that sugary junk food is chock full of fermentable carbohydrates and the natural bacteria in your mouth love-,”

“All I hear is blah blah look at my big science brain while I test Gabe’s will power in this family establishment _blah blah_.”

“I’m just trying to educate you,” Sam snaps.

“I run a _bakery_ , Sam. You’re wasting your breath. Besides, what are dentists for if not to fill cavities?”

“Oh my God. How many- No, nevermind.”

Gabriel turns to face him, eyebrows high while his filming arm sags, unnoticed, to record the back of a woman’s head.

“Were you about to ask me how many cavities I’ve had?”

“I- _No_. Just, forget it.”

“Snoopy Sam,” Gabriel mutters, returning to his recording.

“I was _not_.”

“Were too.

“Was not!”

“You were totally about to judge me for my cavities. I’ll have you know, I have soft teeth.”

“Yeah because of all the crap you eat!”

“What’s it matter to you?”

“We were just kissing!”

“Aww, do you have kissing fantasies about us?”

“In your dreams-,” Sam starts.

“Every night, baby.” Gabriel winks.

“And _my_ nightmares,” he finishes.

“Ouch. Sassy Sammy is out for blood tonight. I love it when you get all feisty.”

Sam turns back to the stage where Dean and Cas are wrapping up to hide his smile.

“Oh and by the way,” Gabriel adds, nonchalant. “I have a cavity or two you can fill, big boy. Anytime.”

“Jesus Christ.”

The audience begins applauding, drawing Sam’s attention, mercifully, back to Dean and Cas as they hand back their microphones. Sam wonders if it’s pity applause or if they all got suckered in by the obvious feeling behind the performance.

“Thank fuck it’s over,” Gabriel says around his crazy straw while he fiddles with his phone.

Dean and Cas make their way around tables full of people, some of whom are offering their congratulations, back to where Sam and Gabriel are sitting at the bar.

“I hate you,” Dean says without preamble. Cas plants himself on the open stool beside Gabriel and frowns at a drink menu.

“Hey now, it was just for funsies, no hard feelings. How ‘bout I get you a drink to make up for it, yeah?”

Dean eyeballs the lurid concoction in Gabriel’s hand.

“Pass,” he says dryly and plops down on Cas’s other side, leaning over his shoulder to see what he can of the menu as well.

“See somethin’ you like?” he asks in a warm gentle tone Sam has only ever heard come out of his brother around Cas and babies.

“Is the strawberry daiquiri acceptable?” Cas asks with a thoughtful squint.

“You don’t want that,” Dean replies quickly.

“Why not?” Cas asks, undeterred. “I enjoy strawberries very much. Is it not good?”

Dean’s eyes go distant for a long moment before he shakes his head and says in a hushed tone, “No, yeah they’re good.” He clears his throat. “Anything else?”

“Coffee?”

“With your daiquiri?” Dean pulls a face.

“From my understanding the daiquiri will be frozen. I don’t want to get cold.”

Dean melts in a way he would be very embarrassed about if he were at all aware of it. As it is, he’s too busy holding Cas’s gaze and looking all soft and in love to notice anything else at all.

Gabriel mimes vomiting in his drink.

Sam turns away and sips at his beer when suddenly Gabriel grabs his arm violently, almost chipping his tooth on his glass. “Ow! Hey-!”

“That’s our number! We’re up, Sammy-kins!”

Sam groans. He was so busy enjoying Dean’s pain, he’d forgotten he’s due a serving of his own.

“Have fun, _Sammy-kins_ ,” Dean sneers with a sarcastic wave.

Sam flips Dean the bird and turns around only to make eye contact with an eight year old at the table beside them. He puts his middle finger down with a sheepish smile and allows Gabriel to haul him across the room, abandoning their drinks at the bar. Sam expects to return to an empty beer glass.

They’re at the edge of the stage when Gabriel abruptly stops and drags Sam down so he can whisper in his ear.

“Whatever happens up there, make sure you say ‘ _yes’_ , okay?” Gabriel shifts anxiously when Sam pulls back to look him in the eye and stares over his shoulder instead, raising Sam’s suspicions instantly.

“Why? To what?”

Gabriel swallows and shifts his eyes to search Sam’s face. “Just… It’s part of the plan, okay. Just say yes.”

Sam purses his lips. “If it’s part of the plan, fine,” he reluctantly agrees.

“Fantastic,” Gabriel says glumly, oddly not seeming at all pleased with Sam’s compliance. Whatever’s bothering him falls away as they step onto the “stage” and Gabriel raises his arms over his head to the scattered applause of a largely indifferent crowd. There are more people than Sam expected, or perhaps it’s exactly the number he expected, but it looks like a lot more from the front of the room where you can’t see the empty tables and patching spacing. Up here it’s a wall of people.

The DJ mutters something about duets and shoves a microphone into each of their hands, wishing them luck in monotone.

Gabriel doesn’t waste a moment in bringing his to his lips and saying confidently, “Hope you nice folks are ready to liven up your night with some old school _Britney_!”

Sam turns to Gabriel in horror as several people groan. Then the opening chords of _Heat of the Moment_ begin to play from the speakers and Gabriel cackles.

“Gotcha!” He winks. He grins at Sam and Sam points an unimpressed look his way in response. His palms are sweating.

“Asia? Really?”

“You love it.”

Sam ignores him, instead turning his attention to the screen scrolling lyrics and focuses on not making a fool of himself as he cautiously sings along. He doesn’t need the help, but it’s either that or watch Gabriel jump around and wiggle his hips to the beat and he can’t handle that right now. That, and Gabriel isn’t exactly wrong. This song is one of his guilty pleasures, not that he would ever admit as much to Dean… or anywhere Dean might overhear.

Sam startles out of his thoughts as Gabriel hip checks him, dragging him out of his head and back into the moment.

“ _Cause it was the heeeaaat of the moment_.”

There’s a wide grin on Gabriel’s face as he enthusiastically belts out the lyrics and soon enough Sam is smiling too and shouting into the microphone without a care for who might be watching and judging. When Sam throws in a little shimmy Gabriel throws his head back and laughs before jumping back into the song with ease and throwing down his own dance moves. Sam’s lanky body was never meant for anything more graceful than chopping wood, but he does his best to keep up with Gabriel’s fancy footwork and by the time the song finally ends they’re both sweaty and grinning through heaving breaths.

The audience applauds and Sam is pleased to note that they’re more enthusiastic than they were for Cas and Dean. He takes their microphones and turns them in to the DJ and hears what is distinctly Dean’s voice at a distance, “are you _fucking_ kidding me?” followed by a collective gasp.

Brow furrowed, Sam turns around only to almost trip over Gabriel who is on one knee, small black box cupped between his outstretched hands.

“What-?”

“Sammy, Sammy-kins, Sammoose, my Sam,” Gabriel starts and Sam can only watch slack jawed as the audience coos and whistles and his hands go numb. _What is happening?_ “I’ve loved you since the day you stepped into my bakery and effortlessly insulted not only me, but my entire life’s work with one simple question.”

“Gabriel,” Sam hisses, heat creeping up his neck into his cheeks.

“‘ _Do you sell anything here that doesn’t contain some form of sucrose?_ ’” he says, delivering the question with enough volume for the entire restaurant to hear.

“I apologized!” he contests over several guffaws and few ill-concealed snickers.

“You didn’t have to,” Gabriel says. “You’d already won my sad lonely old heart with your dimples and the use of the word ‘sucrose’ in casual conversation.”

“Seriously Gabe,” Sam says, face burning but unable to look away from Gabriel’s uncharacteristically sincere gaze.

“Sam Winchester,” Gabriel takes a breath. “I really like your last name. Can I have it?”

Sam’s embarrassment stutters are he registers the pick-up line. His face goes flat and his voice is incredulous as he asks, “Seriously?”

“Just say yes.”

 _Oh_. Suddenly, Sam remembers their conversation before going on stage. This is what Gabriel meant. It’s all part of the prank. Why did he think it was real? Of course it’s not real. Fake relationship = fake proposal. He’s such an idiot.

“Alright,” he agrees somewhat woodenly, then with conviction, “Yes.”


	2. Did the sun come up or did you just smile at me?

“What the hell was that?” Sam demands in a furious whisper as though he risks being overheard once the passenger door of his old rusted beater has been safely closed behind Gabriel.

Gabriel ignores the question. “Let me see it!” He begs, literally bouncing in place due to unconstrained child-like glee.

Sam lifts his hand, allowing the simple gold band on his left ring finger to glint once under the orange glow of the street lamp. Then he makes a fist and socks Gabriel in the shoulder, hard.

“Ow!”

“What the hell,Gabe?”

“Are we having our first domestic?” Gabriel asks, cheerful as ever as he rubs his sore shoulder. “We haven’t even set the date yet. That is so-,”

“If you say romantic, I will kill you and I know how to get away with it.”

“Sexy,” Gabriel leers.

“Not to mention,” Sam continues over him, “‘having a domestic’ implies abuse and there’s nothing romant-,”

“Blah blah blah. You’ve only been my fiancè for 20 minutes and you’re already turning into a bore,” Gabriel huffs and crosses his arms petulantly.

“Then pray tell, why did you-,” Sam works the word around in his mouth, but can’t seem to spit it out.

“C’mon Sammy. Big boy words. You can do it,” Gabriel says, looking tired now as he faces out the window.

“ _Propose_ ,” he bites out through clenched teeth.

“Give the man a prize!” Gabriel says with a sneer as he faces Sam once more. “It’s part of the _game_.”

“We didn’t have to take it this far. It’s not _believable_ and you didn’t even warn me! I froze up!”

“Not _believable_?” Gabriel echoes, looking like he hit him with a sucker punch. “And I did too warn you! Right before we went on. I told you-,”

“To say ‘yes’.How was I supposed to know what you were asking?”

“How many questions out there do you gotta say yes to? This ain’t prom night, kiddo.”

“Don’t call me kiddo,” Sam spits.

Gabriel throws up his hands. “No food pet names, no kiddo- what _am_ I allowed to call you, oh exalted one?”

Sam presses his lips together and closes his eyes, exhaling sharply through his nose as he tries to rein in his temper. A lifetime with Dean has honed the skill well, but he finds that Gabriel takes it to extremes he previously hadn’t thought possible. Besides, he’s embarrassed more than anything. Public proposals are the _worst_.

“You’re not that much older than me,” he says after a minute, “and it would be weird for my… fiancè to call me kiddo.”

Sam opens his eyes only to find Gabriel much closer than he’d been when he closed them, leaning across the car into his space. “Does this mean the ruse is still on?”

Sam takes a fortifying breath. “Yeah. You’ve got a point. After tonight we would’ve been dead in the water. Dean was already starting to get comfortable.”

“YES!” Gabriel fist pumps.

“Don’t get too excited,” Sam says dryly. He starts the car and backs out of his parking space. “Where am I taking you? The bakery or home- _your_ home,” he clarifies before Gabriel can get a word out.

“No fun,” he gripes. “Home, please. I’ve gotta be at the bakery to finish a big order in like five hours, so sleep it is.”

“Five hours?” Sam parrots. “Why didn’t you-?”

“Eh, don’t worry your pretty little head about it, sweetheart,” he says with an odd smile. “This was important.”

“Not so important we couldn’t do it a different nigh-,”

“But!” Gabriel says over him. “I know how you can make it up to me.”

“How?” Sam asks warily.

“Bring me coffee before you go to the firm?”

“...is that all?”

“Because I like you a _lattè_.”

“There it is.”

.

~*~

.

Sam is wolfing down a cup of yogurt in between meetings when his phone starts to ring. He licks the remaining yogurt off the spoon as he removes his cellphone from his pocket, careful not to dislodge the small gold ring along with it. He almost left it on but remembered at the last minute to take it off and slipped it into his pocket before entering the building. The last thing he needs is to drag his coworkers into this relationship artifice he has managed to weave himself into. He doesn’t even want to know why Gabriel just so happened to have a ring on him to propose with last night.

It’s Gabriel. With a sigh, Sam hits Accept.

“Yeah?”

“I’m still in shock that you actually brought me coffee,” Gabriel ways without preamble.

Sam sighs again and puts the phone on speaker so he can use both hands. He throws away the empty yogurt cup and wipes off his spoon with a tissue from the box on his desk.

“I told you,” he says as he drops the spoon in his desk drawer and slides the drawer shut again, “that was supposed to be a prank. You hate black coffee.”

“You keep forgetting I work in a bakery, Sammy,” Gabriel chastises. There’s a slapping noise in the background that has Sam imagining a solid mass of dough dropping onto a granite countertop. “I’ve got plenty of cream and sugar to doctor a cuppa joe to my liking. Actually, thanks to your ‘prank’, I got two cups of coffee out of it.”

“Fuck you,” Sam says distractedly as he flips through the stacks of manila folders on his desk. He knows he already got the Crowley file out, but where did he put it?

“Now I see why you deferred the master planning to me,” Gabriel carries on, pausing only for a moment to say something to someone on his end that Sam can’t quite make out before continuing. “You are the worst kind of novice.”

Sam finally finds the file he’s looking for, sitting under his lunch box of course. “I’m going to hang up if you don’t get to the point.”

“Patience, love. I was almost there,” Gabriel chirps, clearly not threatened in the least. There’s another smacking sound on his end. “Speaking of my pranking expertise-,” Sam rolls his eyes, “-our next phase is going to take place at the Art Center. Cassie was in earlier and let slip that they’ve got plans to go Saturday afternoon so clear your schedule.”

_‘Client claims a breach of the termination clause of the contract by LL Global Connections in relation to the 190 day written termination requirement specifically.’_

Again _._

“Won’t Cas be suspicious if we just so happen to be there after he said he and Dean would be?”

“Nah. He’s a cool cucumber when he wants to be.”

Sam frowns. Whatever that means. “Okay. I guess he can be pretty oblivious.”

Gabriel snorts. “He notices more than you’d think.” Whatever _that_ means. “He just keeps it to himself. Anyway, do we have a date or what?”

“I guess,” Sam mutters, flipping through the thick binder clipped pages in the file to find the termination clause in question. “How did Cas convince Dean to go? He hates art.”

“Cas said he won tickets from some radio contest thing.” Sam can hear Gabriel’s smile in his voice.

“ _Cas_ did? Wait a second.” Sam sets down the folder with a frown. “Admission to the Art Center is free.”

Gabriel cackles. “Dean doesn’t know that though, does he?” he says, sounding tickled pink by the idea that his brother outwitted his boyfriend.

“You Novaks are trouble.”

“You love us.”

Scoffing, Sam closes his folder and checks the clock on the wall. Five minutes until 2:30. “Yeah, maybe. Listen, I’ve gotta go. Got a meeting with a Couch Jr. wannabe.”

“Better than an Umbridge!”

Sam wrinkles his nose. “Is it?”

“Eh, marginally. Oh! Really fast!” Sam huffs, finger hovering over End Call. “Tonight. My place. We need to discuss our date crashing plans for Saturday.”

“I’m not getting out of here until at least seven,” Sam says, remembering his last meeting with the CEO of Crowley Incorporated, Fergus Crowley himself. It required extensive paperwork and Sam was peppered with incessant emails the whole time he was trying to work on it.

“I’ll feed you. Pizza sound okay?”

Sam glances at the time display on his phone. Three minutes.

“Yeah sure. See you tonight.”

He disconnects the call and startles as he catches sight of one of the assistants, Maria, standing in the doorway, eyebrows high.

“I don’t want to know,” she says before he can get a word out. “Crowley’s here and he’s impatient.”

With a heartfelt sigh, Sam scoops up the file folder and stuff his phone in his pocket. “Isn’t he always?”

In his pocket, his phone chirps. _Shit_. Lucky for him it didn’t go off in front of Crowley. He’s the type who would hold it over his head for months. Possibly forever. He takes it out of his pocket and flips it to vibrate as he passes Maria. It immediately vibrates in his hand so with a frown he checks his texts.

 **Gabriel** : _I hope you like dragons because ill be draggin my balls across ur face 2nite ;)_

 **Gabriel** : _Also i don’t need to cast accio to make you cum :D_

A laugh bursts from Sam’s lips before he can stop it and Maria gives him another strange look. Sheepishly, he stows his phone away and hurries off towards the lobby before she can change her mind about asking questions. He’s not sure where he would even begin explaining this one.

.

~*~

.

At 5:30 it’s blessedly quiet after a hellish day. Crowley was just as pleasant as always and on top of that, one of their more senior partners got into a pretty serious car accident and one of her big cases got dropped on his desk as a result. A big case that goes to court at the end of next week. One top of that, one of the other senior partners, Anna, just went on maternity leave the day before. To say it’s been a stressful day would be a massive understatement, one that Sam doesn’t see clearing up for at least a month.

So when his phone rings, shattering the blessed quiet with the discordant clanging of classic rock that signifies a call from Dean, he’s less than happy about it.

“Hey,” he greets in monotone.

“Hey, Sammy.” Sam pulls a face, whether at the childish nickname or Dean’s apparent good cheer, he can’t be sure. “You wanna get burgers with me and Cas tonight? We’re trying out that new place on Bell.”

 _No_. Cas and Dean’s idea of ‘trying a new place’ involves bitching about everything that makes the place not The Roadhouse and then going to The Roadhouse to order drinks and commiserate with Ellen over how she’s ruined them for anyplace else. Hard pass.

Besides, Sam has plans.

“No thanks. Doing pizza at Gabe’s,” he says distractedly. He really needs to finish this mountain of paperwork if he wants to have any plans at all that don’t involve papercuts, dust, and misery.

“What do you mean?”

What kind of question is that, Sam wants to ask. Instead, he sighs and shoves his paperwork away so he can pinch the bridge of his nose and lean his elbows on his desktop.

“Exactly what it sounds like. I’m going over to Gabe’s and I’m going to eat pizza. We might even put on a movie or something,” he adds. He can’t remember the last time he sat down and watched a movie start to finish and he’s gotta admit, the prospect sounds pretty damn appealing from where he sits in his cramped office with his too large desk and overstuffed filing cabinets. He needs to bring in some personal effects: picture frames, bobbleheads, hell, he’d go for an inspirational poster right about now. Maybe he should look into-

“Like a date?” Dean’s voice sounds strained. Sam’s stomach swoops inexplicably. Right. Him and Gabe are engaged. Like, to be married. And it’s not supposed to be weird at all. Nope. Not weird.

“Yes Dean. Like a date. Why, does that bother you?” _Please let it bother you._

“Uh sorta? I thought you hated him.”

“I never hated him,” Sam answers truthfully. “I thought he was annoying and I didn’t take him seriously for a long time, but… I didn’t really know him all that well I guess.” _I still don’t_ , Sam realizes. He’s never given him half a chance, ever since their first meeting when Gabriel started hitting on him. Sam just threw him into his internal “steer clear” compartment and hasn’t revisited that decision since.

“Huh. Well, I guess I’m happy for you guys,” Dean says.

Sam’s brain stalls and dies.

“What?” he asks, desperately trying to make sense of such a statement coming from _Dean_ of all people. “I thought _you_ hated him.”

“Well, yeah,” Dean says like it should be obvious where he’s coming from, “when I thought he was creeping all over my very much not interested little brother, but as it turns out, you just have a thing for playing hard to get.”

“What?” Sam sputters. “ _I do not_!”

Dean laughs. “Yeah. Okay. Anyway, have fun on your _date,_ Mr. Engaged.”

Dean hangs up before Sam can un-swallow his tongue. WHAT THE HELL??? This whole scheme was supposed to end with Dean pissed off and uncomfortable, not giving them his _blessing_. Maybe it’s time to call the whole thing off; he’ll confess to Dean that it was all an elaborate prank and then laugh in his face for falling for it, hook, line, and sinker.

Sam scoffs. That wouldn’t work. Dean would only be disappointed it wasn’t real and start pushing his get-Sam-a-date agenda harder, maybe even specifically pushing him towards _Gabe_. No, he can’t do that. That’d put him back beyond square one to somewhere around square negative seven.

He’ll talk it over with Gabe tonight. He’s the one who dragged them into this whole ‘engaged’ mess anyhow.

.

~*~

.

Two hours later, Sam’s poor mood hasn’t improved. On top of the shit show at work, his prank against Dean falling to pieces, and the fact that he’s _starving_ , he hit a massive pothole pulling into Gabriel’s apartment complex and now his car is making a hair-raising whine every time he turns left. Sam doesn’t know as much as Dean when it comes to cars, but he’s well aware of what a distressed CV joint sounds like and he knows they’re not fucking cheap.

He has to buzz Gabriel’s number twice before the door in front of him unlocks and he lets himself into the hallway. _Gabriel must have sold his soul to get a ground floor apartment_ , Sam thinks bitterly as he reflects on his own fourth-floor shoebox who's only redeeming factor is the small laundry closet off the kitchen, saving him from having to lug his clothes up and down the stairs.

As he approaches Gabriel’s apartment the door pushes outward, sending the tarnished gold ‘4’ swinging. Gabriel’s head pokes around the open door and immediately bursts into a sunny smile upon seeing Sam there.  On a different day seeing someone so happy to see him might have improved Sam’s mood. Today, it only drags him further down into his pity party.

He steps around the open door, ready to enter the apartment, but Gabriel plants his hip against the door frame and slowly looks him up and down.

“Gabriel, I’m not-,”

“I had the perfect pick-up line ready,” Gabriel interrupts, smile replaced with a small frown, “but in the interest of complete honesty, you look like shit.” He pushes the door open farther and steps back into the apartment. “Get inside before the neighbor kids see you. They scare easy.”

“Wow thanks,” Sam mutters as he follows Gabriel in and lets the door fall shut behind him, only catching it at the last moment to keep it from slamming.

“Do what you want with your coat and shit. I don’t care,” Gabriel calls over his shoulder as he ducks through an alcove to the left that Sam’s intimate knowledge of apartment layouts tells him should be the kitchen. The light clinking of bottles confirms the assumption.

Sam wrestles off his coat and slips out of his shoes, leaving them both in a heap just inside the doorway. His suit jacket comes off next, then his tie. He looks around for the first time as he untucks his shirt and undoes a few buttons until he feels like he can breathe again. It’s not fancy. It’s small and worn and certainly looks lived in. The couch looks like something someone’s grandmother might have owned once before it got left on a curb: faded green and pink floral print and a ruffled skirt along the bottom.

The rest of the furniture, if Sam had to guess, is from IKEA and poorly assembled at that. The light pine colored coffee table lists to the right, either loose screws or Gabriel doesn’t know how to use a level. There’s a bookshelf full to the bursting with DVDs on one wall with small holes incrementally around the bordering like someone (Gabriel) nailed the backing on the wrong side and had to remove it and correct it. The carpet is the same oatmeal color that Sam has in his own apartment across town, although he’s pretty sure his doesn’t have a large blue stain leading into the hallway. What could even make that color?

Oddly, there aren’t any pictures or any personal touches, unless of course, you count the giant orange bean bag against the wall under the window and the carpet stain. It’s just a room. He’s not sure what he was expecting.

Instead of sitting on the couch that looks like it would have appreciated a mercy kill half a decade ago, he follows Gabriel into the kitchen and stops just over the threshold.

 _This_ , he realizes all at once, _this_ is what he had been expecting.

Directly in front of him, is the sink and surrounding the sink are the cupboards. Each cupboard is painted a different color and it seems that each one is trying its out-best the others to be a the brightest: electric blue, sunshine yellow, fire engine red, sunlit meadow green, Barney purple, and sunset orange. He has to blink a few times to focus properly, but then he sees that yes, the countertops are in fact made up of shiny copper-plated pennies shielded by some kind of clear glass. The floor is a hideous brick printed linoleum and to his right, the pantry is plastered with magazine cut outs that he can’t quite make out without being fully in the room, but he definitely recognizes the Dr. Sexy Funko Pop figurines lined up on top. Dean has exactly the same collection hiding in his nightstand like he thinks Sam hasn’t noticed them or would even care.

To the left of the pantry is a coat rack housing a plethora of aprons, some frilly and feminine, some standard white, and one that very clearly has a print of a buff naked male body covering the front. To the right of the pantry is a cardboard cutout of Gordon Ramsay in his chef whites, arms crossed over his chest, and a face housing an intimidating glower as though he disapproves of whatever disaster you’ve caused in his kitchen. A small cafe table sits beside him, littered with mail and newspaper with only one chair, seemingly used more for storage than sitting.

The fridge is on the far left of the room on the same wall as the sink, covered in enough funky magnets that Sam almost misses that the entire front is coated with bottle caps that Gabriel must have hot glued on himself. The stove is against the wall adjacent, stainless steel with a matching microwave above it and both also littered with magnets. A fuzzy pink one that looks like a chuzzle catches Sam’s eye before his gaze is inevitably drawn to the garbage can beside the stove. It’s an old fashioned metal one that looks a little out of place indoors, but the appeal it holds to Gabriel is immediately apparent by the crudely painted Oscar the Grouch on the wall behind it, his hands lifted high and mouth open wide as though he’s trying to scare you off.

The cracking of a bottle being opened snaps Sam out of his astonishment and he focuses in on Gabriel for the first time, backside leaning against the sink, standing on a plush coffee brown memory foam rug (the only normal thing in the room and incidentally an exact replica of the one in front of Sam’s very own kitchen sink), and looking pleased as punch as he seals his lips around a wine cooler and takes a sip without taking his eyes off Sam.

“You’re not getting the security deposit back,” is all Sam can think to say.

“Nope,” Gabriel says, popping the P and not appearing to give a single fuck. He takes another drink.

Sam can’t think of a single other thing to say. He wants to ask about Ramsay, but feels like he’s better off not knowing.

“Here sweetheart,” Gabriel says, apparently taking pity on him, “your hand looks heavy, let me hold it for you.”

In a blink, Gabriel is right in front of him holding Sam’s right hand in his left. Sam blinks down at their intertwined fingers and opens his mouth.

“Did Frank get you?” Gabriel asks before Sam can form the thought he feels is very relevant to his immediate needs.

“Huh?” he asks instead.

“In the parking lot,” Gabriel adds like it clarifies anything. “The ginormous crater right smack in the middle of the drive. Did he get ya?”

Sam stares. “You named a pothole Frank?”

Gabriel shrugs. “Seemed appropriate.” He starts swinging their hands in the empty space between them, a happy little smile playing his lips. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Sam shakes his head. He must be more tired than he thought. Or maybe hungry? All he knows is he’s having a hell of a time stringing together two thoughts.

“I- yeah. How did you know?”

Gabriel’s smile widens. “I know the look. Check this out.”

Using their joined hands Gabriel guides Sam around until he’s facing the doorway. On the wall to the right there’s a massive white board, covered in names, dates, and phone numbers. Sticky notes cling to the outermost edge, covered in pen markings too small for Sam to make out.

“What’s this?” Sam asks, despite the rather obvious ‘Frank’s Victims’ written in large blocky letters at the top of the board.

“This,” Gabriel announces, gesturing with his bottle, “is an ongoing list of Frank’s victims. As far as I know anyway. Most of the complex knows to come to me if they or any of their guests get duped by Frank. He’s deceivingly deep, that rat bastard. Anyway, I’ve been keeping track since I reported it almost a month ago now and management said they would get on it ‘soon’ and Frank is still free to beguile and betray to his black heart’s content.”

“That’s… good of you,” Sam says slowly. “You’re doing a good job keeping track.”

“Yeah,” Gabriel beams, “we’re hoping to get compensated for any and all damage Frank causes before he’s finally put to rest.”

“Well you can put me down for a new CV joint,” Sam says blackly. His foul mood was surprised out of him by the overwhelming personality of Gabriel’s kitchen, but at the reminder it all comes swooping back. Gabriel gives his hand a squeeze like he can feel the difference, reminding Sam that they needn’t be holding hands at all. He looks down at their interconnected hands and flexes his fingers just as the buzzer sounds in the front room.

“Ohh pizza,” Gabriel says. He sets his wine cooler on the overflowing table to the left of the doorway, then brings Sam’s hand to his lips and presses a light kiss to his knuckles before snatching up his wallet off the table and departing with a wink.

Sam stands, stunned, in the middle of the suddenly empty kitchen and wonders what happened to his life.

When the front door opens, Sam wanders into the front room to find Gabriel chatting with the pizza guy, Joey, like an old friend, both of them bitching about _Frank_ with equal vitriol. Joey even has the nerve to _wave at Sam_ before he leaves and Gabriel allows the door to close, juggling three large pizzas and a box of breadsticks on top. Sam’s stomach lets loose an embarrassing rumble, the unprecedented wave of envy forgotten as quickly as it had surfaced.

Gabriel grins and slides the boxes onto the coffee table.

“I thought I recognized the signs of a Winchester hangertude,” Gabriel teases, moving the breadsticks to open the top pizza box, revealing a loaded supreme. The smell hits Sam like an anvil and his mouth immediately starts to water. Gabriel can flirt with whoever he wants as long as Sam gets his fill of pizza. Not that that should be an issue, unless…

“Are you expecting someone else?” he asks as he scoops up his first slice. He doesn’t waste another second before taking a large bite. The flavor explodes across his tongue and he can’t help but to close his eyes in rapture. He might even moan a little. That yogurt was so long ago and his lunch before that hadn’t been all that filling to begin with.

“Uh no,” Gabriel answers, watching wide-eyed as Sam chases an olive off of the lowest knuckle of his thumb. “Why?”

Sam shrugs and makes sure to chew and swallow before responding. He’s not _Dean_.

“A lot of food,” he says with a nod to the coffee table.

“Oh,” Gabriel responds, blinking rapidly. “Uh no. Nope.” He hitches up a smile. “Just you and me. I know you’re a big guy and I’m an unrepentant food addict so I figured I’d do best to err on the side of caution and risk over ordering instead of… under ordering,” he finishes weakly as Sam nods, sucking grease from his fingertips before reaching for a second slice. Gabriel stuffs half a slice into his mouth all at once and spends the next minute chewing silently and staring at the blank TV with unfocused eyes.

“D’you want to watch something?” Sam asks into the silence, self-conscious suddenly of his own eating noises.

“What?” Gabriel asks through his mouthful. Sam crinkles his nose but refrains from commenting.

“Should we put in a movie?” he asks. “I don’t know about you but I had a pretty shit day.”

“Oh!” Gabriel jumps to attention and in five rapid steps he’s across the room and browsing the shelves for a DVD. “Do you have anything in mind? A genre?”

“Whatever is fine,” Sam says and then immediately wishes he could reel back the words when he remembers who he’s talking to. Gabriel doesn’t seem to notice. He plucks a DVD from under his nose and then flashes the case at Sam.

“One of my favorites,” he explains with wide pleading eyes. Sam’s been told before that his puppy dog eyes are the most irresistible in existence, but being forced to stare down Gabriel’s version, _Gabriel_ who never begs for anything, he can’t imagine how that could be.

“Uh sure. I haven’t seen it before,” he mumbles, “but I’ve heard good things!” he hastens to add at Gabriel’s expression of shocked outrage.

“It’s settled then,” Gabriel announces, feeding the disc into the player. “ _Big Hero 6_ it is. If you don’t love it at least half as much as I do, which is still a lot, then I’ll eat my big toe.”

“Er, I don’t think-,”

“Oh! Did you want a beer?” Gabriel asks. “I was so enjoying your reaction to my kitchen that I forgot to ask. Light, right?”

“Uh yeah, sure.”

Sam watches him disappear into the kitchen yet again as he chews on his third slice. He hasn’t even investigated the other two boxes yet, but the distended chasm that is his stomach tells him he’ll have plenty of room to spare in sampling around. A quick peek in the two remaining boxes reveals Canadian bacon and pineapple and a plain pepperoni. Sam takes two slices from the pepperoni and firmly closes the other, leaving it untouched.

Gabriel returns shortly after with an open bottle of beer, his half drunk wine cooler, and paper plates which he evenly distributes and then happily skips past all of the previews to get to the main menu, an act that would invoke an excommunication from Dean’s household, but luckily enough for all of them, Sam doesn’t give two shits.

With half a pizza in his belly, Sam figures it’s time to get down to business before Gabriel hits play.

“Dean called earlier. After you did, I mean.”

Gabriel turns away from the television with a cocked eyebrow. “Yeah?” he asks. He collects his plate, drink, and the remote then nestles into the corner of the couch. Sam hesitates before sitting in the opposite corner, leaving the coffee table within easy reach of them both. It’s surprisingly comfortable, but he wonders how he’s going to get back up.

“Yeah. Get this, he gave us his _blessing_ ,” he says with as much derision as he feels the statement entitles. Sam watches the shock boomerang across Gabriel’s face and then he goes curiously expressionless.

“He what?” he asks blankly.

“He said he’s happy for us and that he thought that you were being pushy or a creep or whatever, but it turns out I was playing hard to g- Nevermind. The point is, it’s not working,” Sam explains, reaching for a breadstick. “He’s supposed to be climbing the walls, begging me to break up with you and trying to sell me on the single life, not give me his _blessing_.” He takes a vicious bite of the breadstick and chews furiously while Gabriel continues to watch him, still curiously inanimate and very much not like himself.

“Are you okay?” Sam asks after a steep silence. Was it something he said?

Gabriel shakes himself and manages a smile. “Oh yeah, no I’m fine. Tired, I guess.”

“I can go-,”

“No!” Gabriel interrupts loudly. He continues more evenly. “No, I… could use the company.” It looks like it costs him something to admit it so Sam nods and stays where he is. He could use more pizza anyway.

“What are we going to do then? We need a plan.”

“Sounds to me like we need to up the ante,” Gabriel says, some of his trademark glitter returning to his gaze. “Leave it to me. I have something in mind.”

Sam pulls a face. “We’re already _‘engaged’_ ; there’s not much ante left to up. What are you thinking?”

“That, my sweet, is a surprise,” Gabriel says, unsurprisingly. “Give me a week and I’ll have Dean a sobbing mess.”

“Oh God,” Sam groans.

Gabriel smirks. “Yeah I am pretty God-like. Feel free to get down on your knees and worship.” He winks, as though Sam could possibly miss the innuendo.

“In your dreams,” he mutters through a mouthful of bread.

“Every night, baby,” Gabriel retorts without missing a beat. Sam ducks his head to hide his smile.


	3. Is your name Wi-Fi, because I’m feeling a connection

“Are you crying?” Sam asks in a horrified whisper three-quarters through the movie.

“Are you _not_?” Gabriel demands right back, voice choked with tears as he scrubs at his cheeks with the backs of his hands. “Stupid,” sniffle, “self-sacrificing,” he blows his nose sharply into a damp napkin, “robot!”

Sam doesn’t know what to say. Sure, he tears up during movies sometimes, but he doesn’t think he has legit sobbed because of one since he was seven and he and Dean were watching _My Dog Skip_. Dad ended up coming home while they were both still tear soaked and ended up throwing the tape out the window.

He pats Gabriel’s knee awkwardly and hopes it helps.

He zones out after that, the long day taking its toll, and misses the ending. He doesn’t fall asleep, but it’s a near thing. He doesn’t realize it’s over until Gabriel snaps his fingers in front of his nose, jolting him back to the present. He groans and rubs at dry eyes with the heels of his hands while energetic pop music blares from the TV.

“Nobody was home, but your eyes were wide open. It was kinda creepy,” Gabriel says from where he’s standing in front of him. The pizza boxes have been cleared off the coffee table and Gabriel’s wine cooler has been replaced by a glass of water that he sips at through a purple crazy straw while Sam tries to get his brain turned back on.

“Sorry. Long day,” he murmurs distractedly. Truth is, he’s exhausted. Long day? More like long week. Long month. Long _year_. He knows at this rate if he’s not careful he’ll burn himself out before he’s 40.

“Go home, Sam,” Gabriel tells him.

Sam’s first instinct is to argue, but he quickly finds he doesn’t have the energy to put up a fight. Instead, he slumps further into the couch and sighs.

“Seriously Sam,” Gabriel continues when Sam doesn’t respond. “You look like crap, it’s almost ten, and you’ve still gotta drive home. I’m going to get you some apple juice and then you’re going home.” Sam looks up, shooting Gabriel a quizzical look through drooping eyelids. “Yes, apple juice.” Gabriel rolls his eyes. “The sugar will help you wake up enough to drive but won’t keep you up once you’re home.”

“Oh. Well, thanks,” Sam says, honestly touched. _Thoughtful_ was never a word he associated with Gabriel, but he’s starting to wonder if maybe he’s had him pegged in the wrong hole this whole time. Sure, he’s obnoxious and reckless and annoying, but as Sam watches him march off in search of juice to make sure he gets home okay, he has to wonder how much of it is a front he puts up to cover how much he cares. You’d think he’d have a better radar for this sort of thing after growing up with Dean, but it seems more likely to have made him insensitive to it.

Gabriel returns with a glass of apple juice in hand, complete with its very own green straw, rising up out of the glass in loop de loops. It’s just a straw, but for some reason, it feels like a big deal when Sam accepts the drink and makes himself cross-eyed as he watches the juice swirl up the straw to his lips. He can already feel himself waking up, whether it be the sugar or the cold drink, he can’t be sure. When he looks up again, blinking to refocus, Gabriel is standing in front of him with a soft look on his face.

“What?” Sam asks.

Gabriel shakes his head. “Nothin’ Sammy-bear. Finish that so we can get you out to your rattletrap and on your way home.”

“It’s economical,” Sam mutters around the straw before taking another long draw.

“Not if it keeps costing you in repairs,” Gabriel points out. “I don’t get why you don’t get something more reliable, lawyer boy.”

“It is reliable,” Sam insists. “It just doesn’t hold up against vicious potholes named Frank apparently.”

“I’ll give you that. That Frank’s the devil. But still, once you’re a big shot fancy-pants lawyer aren’t you going to want something, I dunno, shiny?”

“It’s not about having nice things,” Sam argues. “It’s about helping people.” That soft look is back, but it’s tempered by resignation. “What?”

“Nothing.” Gabriel raises his hands. “It’s just, it’s nice that you care, but I can’t help but think that you can’t keep it up.”

“Excuse me?” Sam demands.

“Look at you,” Gabriel says, flapping his arm to gesture at him. “You’re _exhausted_ and for what? What case had you there so late? Who were you helping that was so important it came first over your own health and happiness?”

Sam buttons his lips and glares down at his glass of apple juice. Whether he knows it or not, Gabriel hit the nail on the head. He’s not helping anyone except fancy suits and money mongers and he thinks he’s known that for a long time. It’s why he’s so tired all the time. It’s not the long hours and early mornings; it’s that he doesn’t feel fulfilled. He doesn’t feel like he’s making a difference. He’s only helping money circulate to the same people it always ends up with: rich white businessmen. He’s tired.

“The way I see it,” Gabriel continues into the silence, “you’re going to either end up as another corporate sleazeball and hating yourself for it, or overworked, underpaid, and underappreciated in some DA’s office.”

Sam lifts his head and searches Gabriel’s face. He can’t bring himself to be angry with him, not when it’s all things that have crossed his mind and been stuffed away before, but there is one thing nagging at him.

“Why do you care?” he asks.

Gabriel shoots him a look. “Do you really need to ask?” he scoffs. _Yes?_ Sam thinks to himself, but Gabriel continues. “Look, I’m not telling you to quit your job and apply as the bag boy at the grocery store, okay? I just… I see you making a name for yourself and plowing forward, but I gotta wonder, where are you going, Sam? What are you running towards? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think you know either.”

Jaw set, Sam holds Gabriel’s stare for a long minute before Gabriel nods and smiles thinly. “I thought not.”

“Look, Gabe-,”

“I’m not expecting answers, Sammy,” Gabriel interrupts. “I just want you to get out of your own head and think.” Gabriel scoffs. “That doesn’t make any sense, does it? But you know what I mean, right? I don’t want you to put in all this work only to look around and not be happy with where you’ve ended up.”

“I’ve already put in a lot of work,” Sam argues. He’s already done his four years of college, four years of law school, and now three in the workforce. How can he turn his back on all of that? He’s going to be paying off his student loans for at the very least another decade as it is. It’s too late for him. He’s locked in.

“I know and I get that, but it’s not too late to change course. Being some big shot fancy-pants lawyer in an Armani suit driving a Lexus isn’t the only thing a law degree is good for, you know?” Sam opens his mouth to argue, but Gabriel waves him off. “I don’t want to get into it, I only wanted to make sure you knew that you’re not trapped on a set course and none of us are going to judge you if you decide to go a different route. Think on it, okay? You done with that?”

Sam look down at the remaining apple juice in his glass. “Uh yeah.” He hands Gabriel the glass and watches him carry it to the kitchen with a frown. It’s not often that he has to admit to being wrong, or at least he didn’t use to think so, but Gabriel has him wondering how often he’s ignored how wrong he was by bullheadedly pushing on despite misgivings. Or how often his snap judgments have been completely off base.

Gabriel returns from the kitchen only to find Sam sitting in the same spot on the couch. He quirks an eyebrow and leans a shoulder into the door frame.

“Are you sure you want to go home? You could stay here.” He smirks. “I know some great ways to relieve stress.”

“Pass,” Sam says and stands from the couch. He raises his arms above his head to stretch and doesn’t miss the way Gabriel blatantly checks him out as his wrinkled dress shirt rides up, exposing his hips.

“You’re going to turn me down without even checking out the goods? You know, Burger King isn’t the only thing that’s king sized.” He winks.

“Cheesy pickup lines give me heartburn,” Sam replies flatly and makes his way to the door for his jacket and shoes.

Gabriel barks a laugh and straightens up, fetching his own shoes from a small closet between the front door and the kitchen. “I’m walking you to your car. No arguing.”

Sam pulls a face as he does up the laces on his dress shoes. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Not a babysitter,” Gabriel corrects, stuffing his feet gracelessly into a pair of ratty old sneakers, laces still tied in sloppy bows from the last time they were worn, “An escort.”

Pulling on his jacket, Sam fires back, “I don’t need an escort.”

“I have ulterior motives. Gotta make sure Frank isn’t getting up to any mischief while I’ve been distracted by your delightful company. Ah ah!” he says before Sam can air his rebuttal. “I said no arguing. Let’s go.” He offers Sam his elbow with an expectant wiggle of his eyebrows. Sam shoots him a dry look and heads out the door, sans escort.

This, of course, doesn’t stop Gabriel from bounding after him and chattering nonsensically about Frank the whole way across the parking lot to Sam’s old Honda. It’s cold enough he can see his breath, but Gabriel doesn’t seem to notice despite his lack of coat.

“Well, have a good night,” Sam cuts across him once they reach his car. The driver’s door opens with an unhappy screech and he deposits himself into the seat.

“Yeah, you too. Text me when you get home so I know I don’t have to come haul your sorry ass out of a ditch, would you?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “I’m not that tired. I’ll be fine.”

“Humor me,” Gabriel insists. Sam looks up to meet his eyes and finds them to be uncharacteristically serious. Or maybe it’s more in character than he’d thought.

“Alright,” he agrees.

He pulls the door shut with another loud squeal and Gabriel lifts his hand in a little wave as Sam starts the engine. Gabriel turns away and Sam watches him go for a moment before he clenches his jaw and cranks down the window.

“Hey Gabe,” he calls after him. Gabriel turns back, surprise clear on his face. “Thanks. For the advice,” he clarifies.

The surprise clears to be replaced by a bitter smirk. “Yeah well, been there done that.”

Sam’s brow wrinkles. “What do you mean?”

“My bakery didn’t spring up out of nothing, Sambo,” Gabriel says. “Did Cassie never tell you I went to med school first?”

Sam blinks up at him. No, Cas never mentioned a thing about Gabriel previous to owning his bakery. Between him and Dean, they could hardly figure out Cas’s profession in the beginning. lt wasn’t until Sam caught a nasty bout of the flu, passed it to Dean, and then both of them made a trip to the ER when they couldn’t stop vomiting and there was Cas in the ER. Apparently, he typically works in pediatrics, but he was filling in for someone on maternity leave that night.

Both of them, Cas and Gabe, are seriously close-lipped about their pasts. All Sam knows is that their family has disowned both of them, save a stray cousin who lives in England so it hardly matters anyway. Curiosity ignites in Sam, but he tries to tamp it down with a casual shake of his head.

“Well I did,” Gabriel continues with a wry smile. “Paved the way for the little ingrate. Then, when I was shadowing in the Emergency Department as a graduate student this guy got wheeled in on a gurney, blood everywhere, insides only being held in by the medic’s hands, clearly so far beyond saving that even I, in all my inexperience, knew there was nothing we could do for this guy. Thing is, he had dark messy hair, big blue eyes, and was wearing a tan coat.”

Sam’s mouth drops open in horror. “It wasn’t-,”

“No, it wasn’t,” Gabriel agrees, “but I lost it. That guy bled out on that gurney right in front of me and he looked just like my baby brother. He died and I couldn’t handle it. I walked out and I never looked back.”

“You dropped out?” Sam asks. “But you spent years-,”

“My _entire life_ , Sam,” Gabriel interrupts. “I spent my entire life believing I was going to be a doctor. Do you know why? Because my old man told me that Novaks are doctors. No if's, and's, or but's about it. If I was going to be a Novak I was going to get my medical degree and you know what else? I never questioned that. Not until that day when I asked myself if I could handle spending the rest of my life wondering if my brother was going to end up on my table someday, if i could handle the weight of seeing those kinds of things and still be _me_ at the end of the day. I couldn’t. It wasn’t worth it. So I took a huge step back and actually thought about what would make me happy and…” Gabriel lifts his hands to gesture around him and Sam knows what he means. The bakery is his life.

All at once Sam feels like he knows Gabriel more intimately than he ever expected while simultaneously feeling like he doesn’t know him at all. He can’t reconcile his impression of him over the past two years with the one he’s been getting to know over the past week. He doesn’t understand how he could be so wrong.

“Go home, Sam,” Gabriel interrupts his thoughts tiredly. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and his shoulders are hunched against the stiff wind that has cropped up, per the norm this time of year.

“Yeah okay,” Sam agrees. “And uh, thanks, for telling me and for the advice. I’m glad you dropped out.”

Gabriel smiles. “Yeah? Me too. Hey, does all this sharing and caring mean I get a kiss goodnight?”

Sam fights back a grin and loses. “In your dreams.”

“Every night, baby,” Gabriel responds, right on cue. With a wink, he turns and walks back to his building and Sam turns the crank to roll up his window as he watches him go. He waits until Gabriel is back inside before he shifts into drive and exits the parking lot, careful to avoid Frank. His car shrieks as he turns left onto the side street. Sam sighs.

.

~*~

.

Another shit day, but at least it’s Friday. Sam lets the apartment door slam behind him and peels off his suit jacket and dress shirt; the thin fabric clings to his flushed, sweaty arms only to get caught around his wrist. The temperature set a new record high after threatening snow just yesterday. That’s the thing about living in the midwest; you may not get the highest highs or the lowest lows, but mother nature will be damned if she doesn’t treat you to a bit of whiplash.

Sam is still fighting with his shirt when the buzzer next to the front door sounds. Cursing under his breath, he stalks back to the door and hits the button to allow whoever is bothering him into the stairwell four floors below. It’s probably Dean, coming to talk to him about the newest Game of Thrones episode that Sam didn’t get to watch last night, what with being over at Gabe’s watching a cartoon. There is nothing he wants less than to deal with Dean while he’s exhausted, overheated, starving, and pissed off at the world in general, but if he has learned one thing since moving out on his own it’s that Dean is nearly impossible to ward off through the tiny crackling speaker. It’s much easier to tell him to fuck off to his face.

Finally, he manages to wriggle his hand free from his shirt sleeve and unceremoniously hurls it across the room to land in a heap beside the coffee table laden with a week’s worth of dishes and junk mail. He heaves what’s supposed to be a calming breath and swipes back his sweaty hair. Dean is going to give the living room the stink eye, but Sam is too tired to care. He’ll deal with it tomorrow. Or maybe Sunday.

There’s a knock at the door and Sam rips it open before the sound has a chance to be swallowed by the empty apartment, ready to tear into his intrusive brother.

Sam stops short as Gabriel blinks up at him from the doormat, a large plastic sack dangling from one hand giving off fumes that should be illegal. Gabriel regains his composure first, looking Sam up and down while his lips are slowly pulled into a smirk.

“Someone get me a glass,” he says smokily. “I found me a tall drink of water.”

Sam scowls, irritation washing over his shock in a flash.

“You stole that from _Tangled_ ,” he snaps.

“Guilty,” Gabriel sing songs and side steps around Sam into the apartment without an invitation, slipping out of his shoes as he goes to reveal high vis orange socks.

“Sure, come on it,” Sam grumbles, letting the door fall shut. “I don’t have anything better to do than entertain guests anyway.”

“Aww, Sammy you know you don’t have to roll out the carpet for little ole me. I know how to make myself at home,” Gabriel simpers as he takes in the living room, most likely looking for a place to set down his bag. He pulls a face but doesn’t comment on the mess. Instead, he begins gathering trash and stacking dishes. Sam will be damned if he’s helping. He didn’t ask for Gabriel to show up and guilt him into cleaning his living room. If he’s got a problem with the mess then he can… do exactly what he’s already doing.

He crosses his arms over his chest and leans his shoulder into the wall, but feels compelled to explain, “I’ve been busy this week. Not that you were invited.”

Sam takes a small grain of satisfaction from the way Gabriel’s good cheer wavers, but then he hitches up a mild expression and continues clearing the table without comment. Sam rolls his shoulders, his plain white t-shirt sticking uncomfortably to his shoulders and back. He took his car over to Dean’s shop this morning and had to suffer the bus to and from work. It’s not usually a big deal, but with the unseasonable heatwave the bus’s air conditioning wasn’t up to snuff and the interior of the bus was sweltering and ended an already bad day on a sour note. Very sour. The body odor in that tin can was astounding.

After that, he’d like nothing more than to tell Gabriel to get the hell out, he doesn’t need a nanny, but the plastic bag is sitting on the floor next to Sam’s discarded shirt and the smell is taunting him. His stomach growls, loud enough for Gabriel to smirk at him as he passes by with an armload of dishes, kitchen bound. Sam ignores him in favor of scooping up his mail and dropping it onto the TV stand to deal with at a later date and moving his clothes (a few hoodies, a pair of athletic shorts, and a flannel) off the couch to join his dress shirt on the floor.

Only then is he free to tear into the bag of food. He opens the first container and almost cries over the heap of egg rolls and crab ragoons.

“How are you out of clean silverware?” Gabriel calls from the kitchen. Sam doesn’t reply; his mouth is full of steamy hot deliciousness. He only cries a little.

By the time Gabriel returns with clean forks and bowls, Sam has unpacked the bag and sampled a little of everything. Gabriel casts him a flat look, but it loses its heat quickly as he watches Sam suck sauce from his fingers.

They eat quickly and in silence, but Sam is too busy eating his fill to notice. He feels guilty for splurging on high-calorie food two nights in a row, but that doesn’t stop him from eating until he feels fit to burst. He tries to eat well. It’s easy to do at work when all he has to eat is a lunch he prepared at a time when he wasn’t hungry and could pick healthy options without being swayed by his rumbling stomach. Unfortunately, he has a tendency to under pack which leads to ravenous feeding frenzies when he finally gets the chance to eat his fill and all of this is compounded when he’s stressed. Which is always.

“You eat like a horse,” Gabriel comments when Sam finally slouches into the couch with a sigh, eyelids droopy.

“You’re one to talk,” he quips back half-heartedly. What he would give for a nap right in this moment. He could grab one of his hoodies off the floor and curl up on the couch and pass out. He’d probably sleep through the night even. He’s so tired.

“Hey now, don’t go drifting off on me. This is a business visit,” Gabriel says, poking his toe demandingly into Sam’s thigh.

Sam groans and sits up as he tries to think. They didn’t have plans, did they? He was sure he had the night open. In fact, he doesn’t have any plans at all until sometime tomorrow when they’re suppose to ruin Cas and Dean’s date at the-

“Art Center? Ringing any bells there, Sambo? We haven’t even started planning and it’s going down tomorrow.”

Sam groans and slumps back into the couch, tucking his feet up onto the middle cushion and letting his eyes fall closed and his head fall onto the arm rest.

“Too tired,” he moans. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to convince his eyelids to rise again, but after a suspicious amount of silence from Gabriel’s end of the couch, he manages to crack one open to find him watching him with a strangely soft expression. “What?”

“Nothing,” Gabriel says, schooling his expression into a familiar teasing grin. “Didn’t realize all it would take to bring down the giant was roughly 30 pounds of Chinese food, is all.”

“I’m a growing boy,” Sam sniffs.

“You’re almost 30.”

“Growing boy,” he repeats stubbornly, his eyes falling shut.

“Sam Winchester, if you fall asleep on me I swear to Loki I’ll draw dicks on your face!”

Sam cracks his eyes open into a glare. “Get out of my apartment.”

“I’m here to _help you_ , dumbass,” Gabriel suddenly snaps. “Stop treating me like I’m not worth a damn. _You_ asked for _my_ help.”

Sam’s heart jumps when he realizes Gabriel is serious and he slowly sits up, watching Gabriel glare at him from across the couch. It’s rare to see Gabriel without a smile, even more rare to see him angry. Vindictive, sure, but there’s always a gleeful air to it. Not now. No, now he looks frustrated, pissed off, and... hurt? Sam must be imagining that last bit. Nothing hurts Gabriel. He’s impenetrable.

“Look-,”

“No, _you_ look,” Gabriel interrupts sharply before Sam even knows where he’s going. “I get that you’re tired, but fuck, I’m tired too. I’m tired of you treating me like crap like I’m a big inconvenience to the great and mighty Sam _fucking_ Winchester. You brought me in on your game. You’re the one who said we needed a new plan. You dragged me into this so suck it up and treat me like I’m worth your time or I’m done. I deserve better.”

Sam’s wide awake now, but his brain feels sluggish. Why does this feel like a real fight? He feels like he should be groveling, begging even, for Gabriel not to walk out on him, but there’s nothing to walk out on! This fake relationship is clearly going to his head. Although looking back, he has been sort of a dick. He just… it never seemed like Gabriel was bothered by Sam’s dismissive attitude. He rolled with the whatever Sam dished out and it was easy to take him for granted.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. What do you want me to do to fix this?” Sam says, taking a leaf out of his old middle school counselor’s book. Own up and pony up. If it’s important, fix it.

“Stop being an ass!”

“Alright,” Sam agrees easily, but Gabriel’s lips pucker.

“Stop being so calm. Get mad, would you?” he sneers.

Sam blinks, taken aback. “What? No. Calm dow-,”

“Get your head out of your ass, Sam. Don’t tell me to calm down. You’re not the only who’s had a shit day, okay?”

“What happened?”

Gabriel huffs and runs a hand roughly through his hair. “I showed up at the shop this morning to find my front window smashed in and a brick sitting in one of my display boxes.”

Sam startles. “What? That’s terr-,”

“I’m not done,” Gabriel snaps, leaning threateningly into Sam’s space. “I had to call the cops and file a report and it took forever to get all of the glass cleaned up. Glass fragments, all over my bakery! You can’t have glass lying around food and customers. I had to tarp up the window and by the time I could finally open I’d missed the Friday morning rush which is usually when I get the most business out of the entire week. Oh! And my opener called in with strep throat so there’s that.

“Then,” he’s talking with his hands now, “I’m not only behind on sales, but because I was busy with the cops and cleaning I’m behind on baking which means unhappy customers. And everyone kept asking about the covered window and broken display case because the guy I called to replace them didn’t show until almost four and when he finally got there I had to hang around an extra two hours while he does his job. So finally, after a 15 hour work day all I want to do is eat some good food and relax with some good company, but instead I get you with your surly ass and your woe-is-me attitude and you can’t even pretend to be happy to see me or say thank you for bringing you dinner even though I absolutely did not have to.”

Sam drops his gaze to his hands in his lap and Gabriel scoffs, shoving to his feet as he begins collecting their garbage and stuffing it forcefully back into his plastic sack.

“Thanks for dinner,” Sam hazards after a minute.

Gabriel closes his eyes and presses his lips into a thin line. “Yeah whatever,” he says under his breath and resumes his cleaning. Sam chews his lip thoughtfully. Gabriel’s never been mad at him before. He doesn’t know what to do.

“Here,” he says, pushing to his feet. “Let me-,”

“It’s _fine_ ,” Gabriel interrupts, tugging the sack out of Sam’s reach. “I’ll take my shit and get out of your hair. It’s not like you invited me over.”

Sam swallows thickly. “But- Don’t go like this.”

“ _Why?_ ” Gabriel turns sharply and faces Sam head on. Despite being a foot taller, Sam has never felt so small. “You’ve made it pretty damn clear that I’m not wanted here. You’d think after a year of flat out rejection I’d get the hint, but I just keep crawling back, don’t I?”

“What? No, just... I’m sorry, okay?” Sam lifts a hand only to let it drop back to his side. “I’m not rejecting you.”

Gabriel’s hard stare turns incredulous and the tense set of his shoulders falls away. “You’re an idiot,” he says after a long moment.

He feels like an idiot. It’s like they’re having two separate conversations. “A sorry idiot. Cuz I’m sorry and… an idiot.” _God_.

Gabriel’s stare cracks and a reluctant half smile breaks through. He turns his face down to hide it, but Sam already saw. “I hate you.”

“Should we like, hug it out or something?” Sam jokes weakly, but Gabriel looks like he’s seriously considering it so there’s no decision to be made. “C’mere,” Sam holds out his arms. When Gabriel hesitates his wiggles his fingers enticingly until he rolls his eyes and stalks forward into Sam’s embrace.

Sam braces for impact, but Gabriel draws up short at the last second and then melts against him, his hands feather light against the small of Sam’s back as he gradually allows what feels like his full body weight to lean into his chest. Sam tightens his arms around his shoulders to keep him from falling as confusion clouds his mind. Gabriel always seems so strong and independent; it’s scary to think something as simple as Sam’s foul mood can have this kind of impact on him. Or maybe it’s more than that.

He tucks his chin over the top of Gabriel’s head where it rests heavily against his chest and it takes him a moment realize the sigh he feels isn’t his own. He’s fairly sure long intimate hugs stray beyond friendship territory, but that doesn’t seem like a good enough reason to stop. They both need this.

“Do you want to stay? The night, I mean.” The words are out of Sam’s mouth before he knows he’s considering offering, but he doesn’t take them back. It makes sense. They’re both exhausted and live alone and they have plans together tomorrow. Besides, Sam didn’t buy a couch with a hide-a-bed for nothing.

Gabriel pulls back, dropping his arms to his sides with a deep frown marring his face as he searches Sam’s eyes. Sam’s brian inexplicably jumps to their shared kiss at the Roadhouse. It was awkward there, surrounded by people and knowingly putting on a show for his brother, but here…

Gabriel’s eyes are dark amber in Sam’s poorly lit living room. Normally they’re bracketed by laugh lines and glittering playfully, but here, with only Sam to bear witness, they’re serious and watchful. There’s no show, no front put up to hide what’s really going on in his head. This is Gabriel without walls and the thought makes Sam’s heart beat faster. He has known Gabriel for roughly two years, but he has never _known_ him as well as he does in this moment.

He isn’t an endless supply of games and teasing. He has bad days and lashes out and needs hugs. Sure, they have some major differences, but at his core? Sam is finding him to be something of a kindred spirit.

Gabriel takes another step back. “I don’t need your pity, Sam.”

“Not pity.” Sam matches his step with one of his own, erasing the added distance without a thought. “I want you to stay.” Confusion pulls down the corners of Gabriel’s mouth and Sam hastens to explain. “I have extra blankets and stuff and you can take the couch, it pulls out. This way we can both rest and plan our date crashing tomorrow.”

A strange mix of emotions flickers over Gabriel’s face faster than Sam can pick them out. He chews his lip for a moment. “I’ll buy you breakfast,” he promises wildly, his chest oddly tight. He only suggested it a moment ago, but already Sam is besotted with the idea of Gabriel staying over. They can sleep in and when Sam wakes up Gabriel will either be snoring on the couch or already up taking a shower. Then they can banter on their way to breakfast where Gabriel will ingest a sugar-filled monstrosity and Sam will make faces while Gabriel somehow manages to incorporate at least three pick-up lines, only one of which will make Sam smile. It sounds perfect.

“Breakfast,” Gabriel repeats dully.

“Yeah! We can- There’s this little cafe down the road. We can walk. They have a fruit bar.”

Gabriel’s lip curls. “A fruit bar?”

“For me!” Sam corrects hurriedly. “I go there for the fruit, but they have waffles and stuff. You can add whatever toppings you want. It’s like, the perfect place for us.” Gabriel goes completely still, watching Sam’s puppy-dog stare like he might get bit. “Please?”

Gabriel crumples like a wet paper sack.

“I hope you have an extra toothbrush. I’ll have you know I have a strict dental hygiene regimen.”


	4. You’re the magnet to my iron (I’m attracted to you)

Sam has _three_ extra toothbrushes to be exact, leftover from the four pack he bought almost a month ago. Unfortunately, his full bottle of mouthwash is found to be lacking.

“This expired in 2008,” Gabriel calls from the bathroom while Sam digs a pile of blankets out of the hall closet.

“It’s probably fine. It’s mouthwash. It’s like, 25% alcohol.”

“There are things floating in it.”

“Builds character.”

“Why do you even have nine-year-old mouthwash? Do you leave it sitting on your counter to impress guests, falsely letting them believe you take care of your teeth?” Sam drops the blankets on the couch and stares sightlessly at the ceiling as Gabriel continues his tirade unseen in the bathroom down the hall. “You haven’t even lived here a full year. Was it here when you moved in and you just, left it? That would be disgusting. But what would be worse is if you actually packed this antique and brought it here to your new home to be put on display knowing full well-,”

“Oh my God, fine. Fine! We can go buy you some mouthwash if it’ll make you shut up!”

That’s how they end up down the road at CVS, five minutes until close arguing over the edibility of Golden Puffs.

“They’re disgusting.” Sam wrinkles his nose.

“They’re heavenly,” Gabriel argues.

“They’re not coming into my apartment.”

“Aww c’mon baby. They’ll make me happy. Don’t you want to make me happy?”

“That’s why I’m taking you out for waffles. We don’t even need cereal.”

“It’s a slumber party!”

“Yeah, emphasis on  _ slumber _ .”

“You can’t have a slumber party without snacks!”

“It doesn’t even qualify as a snack food. It’s a breakfast cereal. It says so right there on the box.”

“You say that like breakfast food can only be eaten for breakfast.”

“Because it’s true?”

“Well, in that case, consider yourself uninvited to my tri-monthly pancake dinner.”

“You have pancakes for dinner every three months?”

“ _ Three times a month _ . Get it together, Sam.”

“Then the term you’re looking for is  _ thrice-monthly _ . Get it together, Gabe.”

Their discussion is interrupted by the appearance of a haggard looking employee in a red smock who strides up to them, grabs a box of Golden Puffs, and shoves it into Gabriel’s chest. “Please just leave.” He begs and then turns and walks away.

“Sorry!” Sam calls after him, cringing, but the employee ignores him disappears around the corner. He turns back to Gabe. “It’s pretty close to closing time. We should probably go.”

“First, we need Twizzlers,” Gabriel stipulates, cradling his devil cereal to his chest protectively.

“Ugh. Licorice is almost as bad as Golden Puffs.”

“And gummy worms,” Gabriel adds.

“I think you mean bears.”

“Worms.”

“ _ Bears _ .”

Five minutes later, they have a bag of gummy worms and a bag of gummy bears respectively and take their purchases up to the front and pay. They exit the store, plastic bags in hand and the cashier locks the door behind them.

“Shit.” Gabriel stops in his tracks. “We forgot the mouthwash.”

.

~*~

.

The next morning Sam wakes up.

When he invited Gabriel to stay he imagined slowly waking in his own bed, the sun gentle on his face and soft sounds filtering through the apartment as Gabriel got up and around for the day. Then they’d take their time and when they felt like it, they would take a nice walk down the street to the cafe for breakfast. In hindsight, it was a foolish fantasy.

Sam is jarred awake by fingers snapping in front of his nose and Gabriel’s voice crooning along enthusiastically to the radio not two inches from his face.

“ _ We will be together all of our days. Wanna wake up every morning to your sweet face - alwaaaays _ .”

He jerks back and his head collides with something solid that he doesn’t remember being in his bed.

“Gah,” Sam unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth and groans. He cracks his eyes open to find Gabriel on his belly half under the coffee table with his chin cupped in his hands as he serenades Sam into consciousness. Sam lifts his head from the carpet and struggles to shift onto his back, impeded by the couch behind him. Something sticky pulls off the carpet, firmly fixed to the skin of his cheek.

Gabriel rolls away cackling and Sam peels the slightly squished gummy worm off his face and flings it after him. With another groan, Sam grinds the heels of his hands into his eyes, body stiff and mind fogged with sleep.

The last thing he remembers from last night was putting in a third movie and moving from the couch to the floor after getting jabbed in the ribs by Gabriel’s cold toes one time too many. This was after returning from CVS with a sack full of sugary snacks and a Redbox that ended up being so awful they turned it off halfway through and Sam was banned from being allowed to choose one ever again, a decision he didn’t necessarily disagree with. Gabriel then chose the next movie from Sam’s own collection,  _ The Blind Side _ , and when that ended Sam wasn’t ready to go back to his room alone so he put in another movie, he doesn’t remember which one, and promptly fell asleep on the floor.

A solid mass drops onto the couch above him and Sam drops his hands to his chest to turn a sour look up to Gabriel, grinning over the edge.

“Getting to see you in the morning is an unexpected delight, my dear.”

“Fugguff,” Sam slurs.

Gabriel only grins wider and continues chattering. “You sleep like the dead. I was up almost two hours ago and I’ve already been down to the store and back for my mouthwash. I’m minty fresh now, see?”

Gabriel leans further over the edge of the couch to blow in Sam’s face. With an inarticulate yell, Sam rolls out of range only to crash into the coffee table, knocking the Twizzlers off the other side. Gabriel laughs and jumps up from the couch to start tidying the room in a flurry that hurts Sam’s eyes to try and follow.

“C’mon Sammy, I’m starving. How long is this fruit bar of yours open? It’s almost 8:30.”

Sam groans and throws an arm over his eyes. It’s only 8:30? They had to have been up until close to 2:00 am. How is Gabriel so chipper? It’s disgusting.

“Sammy-Sam, Samoose, if you fall back asleep I’ll be forced to kiss you awake. Don’t think I won’t,” Gabriel sing-songs.

It might be worth it, even if it’s only for a few minutes of extra rest. He’s not altogether certain he could fall asleep with Shania Twain blaring and Gabriel belting out the lyrics, but he can close his eyes and lay here until he feels a little more prepared to face another day. Besides, just yesterday he was toying with the thought that kissing Gabriel again wouldn’t be so bad. It might not even be a punishment. His heart thumps harder in his chest at the thought and he suddenly finds himself wide awake. Damn.

He sits up and rubs his hands over his stubble and works his tongue around in his mouth. It tastes like ass and his teeth are fuzzy from all the sugar he ate last night. He has really gotta stop letting Gabriel push his bad eating habits onto him. The fruit bar will be a good start.

“Shoot. I was looking forward to that kiss.”

Sam stretches his arms over his head and several things pop. “Maybe later,” Sam says through a yawn. “I’m gonna brush my teeth,” he mumbles and struggles to his feet with a grimace. Everything hurts.

Gabriel’s manic energy comes to a sweeping halt as he watches Sam stumble his way down the hall. “I’m holding you to that!” he yells after him.

“M’hmm.”

Sam feels better once his teeth have been brushed and he’s had some water splashed on his face. He considers shaving but decides it’s not worth the effort for a Saturday and instead simply runs the trimmer over his stubble to even out what growth he has. He slaps on some pit stick after that and then heads to his room for clean clothes, pulling off his dirty ones as he goes.

Standing in only his boxers he pulls open the topmost drawer of his dresser and stops. He swears his favorite boxers were sitting right on top yesterday, a special weekend treat. Now they’re conspicuously gone.

“Did you take my underwear?” he yells in the direction of the living room.

“Duh,” Gabriel’s voice calls back. “I wasn’t going to sit around in dirty ones all day.”

“Those are my favorites!” Sam complains. With a pout, he grabs a different pair and shuts the drawer.

“Let me make sure I understand.” Sam jumps and whirls to face the doorway where Gabriel stands nonchalantly, seemingly unconcerned at Sam’s state of undress. “The boxers I’m wearing, white and covered in little black paw prints, are your favorite?”

Sam narrows his eyes. “They’re soft.”

Gabriel’s lips twitch.

“And the band isn’t too tight,” Sam adds.

Gabriel purses his lips, but Sam can still clearly see the smile he’s trying to stop from the way the laugh lines around his eyes crinkle.

He sighs. “Just… make sure you give them back.”

Gabriel smirks. “Do you want them now or later?”

“I walked right into that one.” Sam shakes his head. “Get out so I can get dressed.”

Gabriel makes a show of looking him up and down and Sam hopes that the heat he feels creeping up his chest isn’t a blush. “You sure you don’t want to give me a show? I’m a very receptive audience.”

Sam shoots him a look. “I thought you were starving.”

“I am.” Gabriel looks him dead in the eye and Sam is sure he’s blushing now. Heart racing and eyes wide, he holds eye contact with Gabriel. He takes too long to respond, but Gabriel stays where he is in the doorway, not coming any closer. He doesn’t leave either.

“They close down the fruit bar at ten,” Sam manages, throat tight. Gabriel stares at him for a long moment and his watchful gaze has Sam’s skin tingling all over. Finally, he nods.

“Better not risk it.” He hitches a playful smirk into place, but Sam can see the strain.

“Right,” Sam agrees shortly.

Gabriel backs from the room before turning and walking away. He calls over his shoulder, “Don’t take too long, Sammy-kins. You don’t want to see what happens when you keep a man from his waffles.”

Sam releases a shaky breath and softly closes the bedroom door. His hands are trembling.

What was that? He hasn’t felt that way in a long time and never about Gabriel. Usually, it takes several months of knowing someone before he reaches that level of desire, but it never comes on all at once like that. Maybe it was a fluke? It’s  _ Gabriel _ . He’s known him for years and has never even thought about him like that.

It’s this fake dating thing, he decides. All this closeness, it’s getting to him. Once they reveal the prank to Dean things will go back to normal; it’s nothing to get worked up or make hasty decisions over. Sam pushes out another breath and does what he can to shake off the lingering electricity under his skin. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. Nothing needs to change.

He finishes getting dressed and soldiers out to the living room, mentally preparing himself for the awkwardness. He needn’t have bothered.

He follows the twang of more Shania Twain to the kitchen and stops in the doorway. Gabriel is standing at the sink, suds up to his elbows, and singing into a ladle as he twists his hips to the rhythm. What Sam assumed was a radio earlier turns out to be Gabriel’s phone, now sitting half inside a tipped over glass to amplify the sound.

“I thought we were in a hurry,” Sam says, voice raised to be heard over the music. Gabriel doesn’t startle. Instead, he turns on the spot and stomps his foot with the beat as he sings, eyes on Sam’s.

“ _ You gotta shimmy, shake _ ,” Gabriel sings as he makes his way to Sam, “ _ make the earthquake _ .”

Sam laughs and shakes his head when Gabriel holds out his hand in invitation. Gabriel grabs his hand and pulls him into the kitchen proper anyway. Together they try to mimic the dance instructions in the lyrics with varying degrees of success. Gabriel has clearly done this many times while for Sam, it’s his first. It doesn’t make any difference. Sam laughs as he trips over himself trying to match Gabriel’s steps and Gabriel’s smile looks like it’s going to split his face in two. The ladle gets tossed back in the sink with a sudsy splash.

The song is slow to fade and before it’s totally gone Gabriel steps into Sam’s space. “Hold still,” he whispers. Sam stills, breath stuck in his throat as Gabriel stands on his tip toes and puts his hands on Sam’s jaw, touch feather-light, to gently pull him down into a soft kiss. Sam goes willingly, eyes falling shut as Gabriel’s lips caress his own for only a second before he pulls back.

Lightheaded and short of air, Sam breathes, “Why did you do that?”

The glaring playfulness of moments before is muted in Gabriel’s eyes, replaced by something soft and warm and that hurts to look at for too long.

“You had something on your face,” he answers.

Sam drops his gaze. “Oh. What was it?”

“A smile,” Gabriel says, a smile of his own playing his lips. Sam lifts his gaze and meets his eyes once more, now with a wry twist to his lips. A strange combination of emotions twist in his gut leaving him wrong-footed, but he stays.

“Your pick up lines are getting out of control.”

“I think they’re starting to work.”

Sam doesn’t have anything to say to that.

.

~*~

.

“You must be a bag of trash cause I wanna take you out tonight.”

“We’re already out, Gabriel,” Sam says distractedly as he reads the plate under a frankly bizarre statue of an older naked woman getting out of a bathtub. Nothing it has to say is at all enlightening. “Besides,” he continues, turning away to the next exhibit, an eagle made entirely of metal coat hangers towering over them, “who actually wants to take out the trash? It’s a chore. Why would you equate going on a date with someone with an unpleasant but necessary task?”

Gabriel shoots him an exasperated look. “Can’t you just fixate on the whole taking you out thing like everyone else? Whatever. You know this means I have to bring out my backup, right?”

Sam turns to face him with a raised eyebrow. “Is it any better than the first?”

“Yes,” Gabriel insists. Sam waits expectantly and Gabriel delivers. “Nice shoes. Wanna fuck?”

Sam bites his cheeks to keep his smile at bay, but Gabriel sees through him.

“You like the dirty ones!” he exclaims much too loud for the secluded courtyard they’ve found themselves in. An older gentleman in a waistcoat shoots them a glare before disappearing through an archway and leaving them dangerously alone. Gabriel steps in close, eyes lit with excitement. “That shirt is very becoming on you. Of course, if I was on you I’d be coming too.”

Sam turns away to hide his face. “Gabe, really,” he protests weakly, staring with extra intensity at the eagle in an attempt to ward off any incoming mental images.

“Great legs, what time do they open?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Old,” he rebukes.

Gabriel steps closer, not even pretending to look at the art, not that Sam can blame him. They’ve been here for hours and haven’t seen hide nor hair of Dean or Cas. “Rose are red, violets are blue. I suck at poems but I can suck you.”

Sam snorts. “Wow.”

“If I flip a coin what are my chances of getting head?”

“Zero,” he says firmly.

“Are you my big toe, because I would bang you on every piece of furniture I own.”

Sam shakes his head, smiling freely despite his attempts otherwise. “I’ve seen your furniture. It couldn’t handle me.”

Gabriel’s mouth drops open into a delighted smile. “It’s a good thing I wore my gloves today, otherwise you’d be too hot to handle.”

“Where do you get all of these?” Sam asks.

“Internet,” Gabriel replies shortly. His eyes light up. “Which reminds me,” he leans in close enough that Sam can feel his breath ghost across the shell of his ear. His hair stands on end and when Gabriel circles his fingers lightly around Sam’s wrist electricity jolts up his arm. “Are you Google because I’ve just found what I’ve been searching for.”

Sam feels oddly light as Gabriel steps back, like the only thing keeping him on the ground is Gabriel’s loose hold on his wrist, the skin there hypersensitive to the contact while the rest of him tingles in anticipation. The sun is lighting Gabriel’s face, turning his eyes honey gold and Sam can’t look away.

A squeal followed by a loud bark of laughter breaks them out of the moment and Gabriel steps back, dropping Sam’s wrist as he goes. Sam turns away to catch his breath and finds a young boy and girl playing chase through the grass around the sculptures followed by a young harried woman who looks about the right age to be their mother. She shoots him an apologetic glance that he returns with a shaky smile.

“Let’s get out of here. Dean and Cas aren’t coming,” Gabriel says.

“Right. Dean and Cas.” Sam shakes his head, trying to get his thoughts back in order and follows Gabriel through the building out to the parking lot. It’s even more difficult to ignore Gabe in the close confines of the car.

.

~*~

.

Sunday is dull after the excitement of Friday night and Saturday. Sam finds himself restless, at a loss for what to do with his time to himself. He usually covets this time alone after a week full of taking orders from the partners and using his customer service voice with clients. He can’t say he’s craving social interaction; it’s more a very specific social interaction with a very specific person and he doesn’t know how to handle it.

He has his number. He could text him. He probably won’t answer right away or with any kind of consistency considering he’s working, but the option is there. Also, Sam knows where he works he could go there and… and what? He’s working. He can’t walk away from his job indefinitely to- do what exactly? Chat with Sam? What would they even talk about? They haven’t been even been apart for a day and Sam is already suffering from withdrawals.

How did this happen? He doesn’t understand.

He knows he’s demisexual. He needs to form an emotional connection to someone before he can feel attracted to them to put it simply. That doesn’t explain this. He’s known Gabriel for years. They’ve been on decent terms over that time. Sure, they weren’t friends or anything, but they spent holidays and stuff together thanks to Cas and Dean’s relationship. He guesses he didn’t ever think of him as anything beyond ‘that obnoxious guy at the bakery’ and then ‘Cas’s annoying older brother’ after that.

Now he’s… he’s  _ Gabe _ . And Sam doesn’t know what to do about that so he spends the day alternating between watching Netflix and washing dishes. He doesn’t text him.


	5. I’m not drunk, I’m intoxicated by you

“Now that Anna isn’t here to protect her little pet, you’re going to start pulling your weight, Winchester,” Uriel drawls and gracelessly drops an enormous pile of folders filled to the brim with case files onto Sam’s already full desk. Sam stares at the haphazard stack in dismay. He only just finished prioritizing the ones Uriel dropped on him on Friday and now he has double that amount. He didn’t imagine he’d be leaving before seven as it was, but now he thinks he’ll be lucky if he’s home before midnight.

Uriel departs with a smirk at Sam’s lack of response and Sam has to resist the impulse to start slamming his head onto his desk- there’s no space for that nonsense anyway.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he has it out and under his nose before he realizes what he’s doing. Any distraction is a good distraction.

**Gabe:** _ What’s brown and sticky??? _

Sam rolls his eyes and texts back, ‘ _ A stick _ ’. It’s like he isn’t even trying anymore, but it’s the first time they’ve spoken since Saturday and Sam would be lying if he said that even this dry and tired joke doesn’t have his heart beating a little faster. He watches the next text come in.

**Gabe:** _No silly! My love for you!_

Same doesn’t have time to try and parse Gabriel’s logic before there’s a tapping on his doorframe. He tucks away his phone and puts on his best placid yet polite expression, the one he usually saves for divorce cases, and looks up, praying that it’s not Uriel returning to check on his progress or worse, give him more cases. His luck holds. It’s Maria in the doorway, cool and unimpressed with him as usual.

“There’s a delivery for you,” she says, lifting her chin towards the lobby. Fear strikes Sam through the heart as he envisions an abundance of sticky chocolate cupcakes filling the lobby, or possibly an enormous box of chocolates delivered by a singing diaper-clad cupid, or-

“Don’t get excited,” Maria continues. “It’s a weird one. Donny and me were trying to decide whether or not it should be classified as a threat or not, but since you haven’t had any big cases we figured probably not. Also the note.”

Sam lets the insult roll off his back and gets to his feet, letting Maria lead the way down the hall to this mysterious delivery. When he enters the lobby he breathes a sigh of relief when he finds it unchanged from this morning, save the pimply guy with a bulging messenger bag slung around his shoulders and holding a… stick. A regular stick, like off a tree, complete with a big red bow tied around the center.

“Sam Winchester?” the kid asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Sam mumbles, still staring at the stick. Surely Gabe wouldn’t…

“Delivery for you,” he says and hands him the stick. Sam accepts it, nonplussed, and a tag shakes loose from the bow, hanging by a thin ribbon. Sam cocks his head to read it.

_ ‘Gotcha! You were right. It was a stick!’ _

It’s not signed, but then again it doesn’t need to be. Despite his best efforts, Sam starts to snicker. It is such a Gabriel thing to do to plan such a complex but ultimately trivial joke.

“Well at least it makes sense to someone,” Donny, the receptionist, complains.

“Sorry,” Sam hurries to explain, a wry twist to his lips. “My uh, friend has an odd sense of humor.” He almost said, boyfriend. What the hell.  _ Fake boyfriend _ , he reminds himself. No, shit, fake  _ fiancé _ . Ugh. This is getting to be too much to keep track of.

“This too, Mr. Winchester,” the delivery boy says. He pulls a massive heart-shaped dessert box out of his bag,  _ Slice of Heaven  _ stamped on the top in pink.

“Oh my God,” Sam says, face going hot. He can’t bring himself to look at Maria as she mutters  _ ‘lucky’  _ under her breath or Donny, who sits silently at his desk.

“Thanks,” he mutters, accepting the box. He digs in his pocket and manages to come up with a crumpled five dollar bill and the boy’s face lights up at he accepts it, gives his thanks, and moseys out the way he came, the revolving door spinning to a stop behind him.

Sam peeks inside the box and stifles a snort. Handmade caramels… brown and sticky. They’re a rare treat that he indulges in at the bakery, one of his favorites and Gabriel knows it. The problem is there’s about a hundred of them crammed into the heart-shaped box.

“Uh,” Sam turns back to face Maria and Donny. They’ve seemingly lost interest in his good fortune and Maria is leaning over Donny’s shoulder as he shows her something on his computer screen, but they both look up as Sam speaks. “D’you guys like caramels?”

“Hell yeah,” Donny says, eyeing the box while Maria narrows her eyes.

“Why? Not good enough for you?” she demands. Donny elbows her, but she remains steadfast and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Uh no? I mean, yes.” Sam shakes his head. “They’re my favorites. It’s just… there’s so many. I’m never going to be able to finish them all.” Maria is unmoved. Sam puts up his hands in surrender, feeling silly with a stick in one hand and a heart box in the other. “Alright. Here, I’ll leave them here and whoever wants some can help themselves. He shoves a handful of the candies into his pocket and leaves the box on the front edge of Donny’s over large desk.

He hesitates, looking down at the stick. What is he supposed to do with it? He’s tempted to take off the bow and toss it outside. Surely he doesn’t expect Sam to keep it- What is he thinking? This is Gabriel. Of course he does.

“Hey, you got it!”

Speak of the devil…

Sam whirls around and finds Gabriel himself nearly skipping across the lobby, the revolving door spinning in his wake.

“Gabe, what-?”

“Did you like it?”

“Er…” Sam looks down at the stick, but Gabriel doesn’t wait for a reply before turning to Maria and Donny who don’t even have the decency to pretend they’re not listening.

“Did he smile?” Gabriel demands.

Swallowing a mouthful of caramel, Donny responds, “Uh yeah. He laughed a little, too.”

Gabriel gasps and turns back to Sam with a wide happy smile and glassy eyes. Alarm bells start going off in Sam’s head.

“Are you high?” he hisses low enough that hopefully Donny and Maria, casually snacking on his caramels, can’t hear.

“As a  _ kite _ , snuggle sausage,” Gabriel says loudly, swaying over to Sam until he’s tripping over Sam’s freshly shined dress shoes. “Shit. I mean, uh, poopsie doodles. I know you don’t like the food ones.”

Sam stares then shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. What were you thinking?” he demands in a whisper, gripping Gabriel by the bicep and dragging him towards the door. “You got high and decided to come to a  _ law  _ office.”

“You told me to,” Gabriel says, wriggling to get free.

“I did not.”

“Did too!”

“Did n-,” he scrubs a hand down his face and takes a calming breath. “What are you talking about?”

“My cavities!” he exclaims, finally wrenching his arm free and nearly falling over. “You made fun of them and so I had to!”

“What? No, I didn’t mean-,”

“I hate the dentist! They hurt me, Sammy. And they put their hands in my mouth. Who does that? It’s torture. So the nice lady gave me some happy gas and now my teeth are all better and I’m happy so I wanted to make you happy, too.” A slow blissful smile stretches his lips. “I’m really glad you like your gift.”

Sam looks down at the stick in his hand and suddenly his strange gifts make more sense, but in order to get the caramels, Gabriel would have had to get from the dentist to the bakery and from the bakery to the law firm.

“God, you haven’t been driving, have you?” Sam wrenches his neck looking out the front window, almost expecting to see Gabriel’s car still running, door ajar, and parked half on the sidewalk.

“Pffft, I’m not stupid. Cassie drove me home and then I wanted a brownie so I walked to the bakery and then I got the idea to give you a present and so I sent Alphie to deliver it. It took a long time to find the perfect stick, you know. There’s not a lot of quality sticks in town.” His eyes go distant and he mutters, “Someone should really do something about that…”

“Gabe-,”

Gabriel shakes himself and blinks back to Sam. “But I found the best one!” he insists. “And Alphie, that kid is so sweet. He brought it to you. He deserves a raise.”

“So Alphie drove you here, then?” Sam asks, hoping to jump Gabriel back on the right track.

“No,” Gabriel flicks his hand dismissively. “There was a cab-,” He cuts himself off with a gasp, his eyes go distant again as he stares over Sam’s shoulder, mouth agape. Sam checks behind him, but there’s nothing there.

“Gabe?”

His wide eyes find Sam. “They kicked me out.”

“What? Who-?”

“Of my own baby. My own  _ child _ .”

“Uh…”

“My bakery! They made me leave!”

“I’m sure they had good reas-,”

“No, no no!” Gabriel stomps his foot. “They didn’t!” Suddenly Gabriel lurches forward and latches onto the sleeve of Sam’s suit jacket. “I only wanted to make people happy, Sammy.”

“You, uh, do a good job.”

Gabriel nods somberly. “I made her so happy. It’s her only daughter’s wedding. Her only one. She doesn’t have anymore. None! And the cake was so beautiful. No one should have to pay for art. Art should be free.”

Sam has a sinking feeling that Gabe might have given away a very expensive cake. He winces, wondering how much of this Gabriel will remember and how much he will regret.

“I’m sure you made her very happy.”

“I did! She cried happy tears and she gave me a hug! I was so nice. Hugs are so nice, Sammy.”

“Ah yep. We all love hu- Oof!”

Gabriel slams into Sam’s chest like a cannonball and grapples on, burying his face in Sam’s shirt.

“I love you,” he mutters.

Sam pats his back awkwardly, trying to pull air past Gabriel’s vice-like grip.

“Love you, too. Hey, you did such a good job making other people happy today, I think it’s time for a break, yeah? How about I give Cas a call and he can take you home? A nap sounds good doesn’t it?”

“Are you gonna come?” Gabriel asks, voice muffled.

“Ah, no. I wish I could, but Uriel keeps piling work on me. I can stop by the bakery in the morning and check on you though. Okay?”

Gabriel sighs. “Yeah, okay. But you gotta tell  _ urinal  _ from me that he’s a great big bag of dicks, okay?”

Someone at the registration desk makes a choking noise and Sam quickly checks over his shoulder to make sure Uriel hasn’t crept up on them. Donny and Maria are the only ones there, Maria snickering and rubbing Donny’s back while he coughs up the caramel he inhaled.

“Uh, yeah. I’ll tell him.”

“From me,” Gabriel insists. “He’s gotta know it’s from me.”

“Yep. He’ll know. I’m gonna call Cas now, okay?”

“Okay.” Gabriel sighs happily, snuggling closer to him. Sam feels his face growing hot, but he ignores his self-consciousness and dials.

By the time Cas arrives, Sam has managed to extract himself from Gabriel and has him sitting in a chair in the waiting area where he’s making fast friends with Donny and is even getting Maria to smile.

“Baby bro! You’re here! I missed you!” Gabriel stumbles out of his seat as Cas enters the lobby, closely followed by Dean, and flings himself onto his brother in a crushing hug. Dean and Sam trade looks over the tops of their heads. Dean makes his way over to Sam and quietly catches Sam up on how Cas called him freaking out after Gabriel disappeared. Or, Cas’s version of freaked out anyway. Turns out when he gets worried he gets super pissy.

“You were supposed to wait for me in your apartment,” Cas snaps, arms at his sides while Gabriel continues to try and crush him to death in his arms.

“I didn’t know if you were going to come back. You were gone sooo long!”

“It wasn’t even ten minutes and when I got back you were gone.”

Gabriel drops the hug and pouts, “You abandoned me.”

Cas levels a Grade A Bitchface at his brother. “I went for  _ coffee.  _ Seeing as you don’t bother keeping any stocked I knew I wouldn’t survive the day without it with you in this state.”

“I make people  _ happy _ ,” Gabriel insists before turning his back. “Deano! Fancy seeing you here! Or should I call you  _ coffee _ ?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “You really worried Cas. We looked everywhere for-,”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gabriel cuts him off. “I should’a guessed you’d take his side. You’re so whipped it’s disgusting. When are you gonna man up and propose already, huh? Make an honest man out of my baby brother.”

Dean’s mouth gapes like a fish out of water and his ears go red.

“Gabriel, that’s enough,” Castiel snaps and Dean finds his voice.

“How ‘bout you butt out,” he snaps. “You don’t know a damn thing about-,”

“I know more than you!” Gabriel bounds into Dean’s space so they’re practically nose to nose. Dean scoffs and stands his ground, but Sam can tell by the wicked smirk on Gabriel’s face that he’s not blowing smoke.

“Gabriel-,” Cas warns, no doubt noticing the same thing.

“I know Cassie has had a ring for months now, but he’s just been waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass and-,”

“Gabriel!” Cas barks, face red in either mortification or rage, Sam can’t be sure. Dean turns to Cas with wide eyes allowing Gabriel to slink off with a satisfied smirk.

“Do you?” Dean demands.

“Dean, I-,”

“Answer the question, Cas,” Dean cuts him off gruffly, a funny look on his face. “Do you want to marry me?”

Sam holds his breath as Cas goes still, blue gaze searing into Dean’s unusually serious eyes. After a long moment, he nods.

“I do,” he says simply, without dropping Dean’s intense stare.

Dean drops onto one knee.

“Holy shit,” Donny whispers somewhere behind Sam, voice muffled like he’s talking around a mouthful of caramel.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sam mutters.

“Castiel,” Dean begins eyes and ears only for Cas. “You’re… You’re it for me. I need you, man. And- I love you. You… you make me better and… and…”

A soft smile melts across Cas’s lips and he stoops to take Dean’s hand and pull him back to his feet, eyes warm and full. Dean allows him to pull him up, brow crinkled in confusion and worry. “I appreciate the gesture, but it’s not necessary. I already said yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Cas says easily, linking their fingers together between them. “I love you, Dean.”

Sam wrinkles his nose and turns to Gabe, expecting to find a similar expression of distaste in reaction to being forced to endure their brothers’ love-sick sappiness, but instead, he finds tears.

“That was so beautiful,” he blubbers as Sam stares in horror. “I need to make another cake!”

“The cake can wait,” Sam assures him before he can rush off. “They’re not getting married  _ today _ .”

“Oh my God,” Gabriel gasps, tears starting anew. “My baby brother is getting married!”

“Uh yeah. We were all here for the proposal.”

“The proposal!” Gabriel exclaims. “It was so sweet. When you propose to me, I want it to be just like that.”

Sam pulls a face. “You already proposed to me,” he replies and immediately wants to punch himself in the mouth when Gabriel turns wide and watery eyes up at him.

“I did! And you said yes! I have to make  _ two  _ cakes!”

It takes almost ten minutes to convince Gabriel that there is no immediate need for wedding cakes and to get all three of them out the door. By the end of it, Sam feels like a broken record, skipping between demanding Cas and Dean wait to have celebratory engagement sex until after they leave Gabe’s place and assuring Gabriel that he’ll see him in the morning and no, he can not go with them. He really does have to work at some point today.

And then finally, they are gone and the lobby is returned to its natural silence.

“Not a word,” he says without looking at Donny or Maria. The box of caramels is half empty between the two of them.

“Is your life always a soap opera?” Maria asks behind a smirk.

Sam sighs and rubs his temples. He’s really starting to wonder.

That night when he gets home, he finds an inedible wad of wax paper and caramel melted into the inner lining of his pant pocket.

.

~*~

.

Sam keeps his promise the next morning and stops in at the bakery with a cup of coffee. Marlene, a 62-year-old degree collector currently majoring in Horticulture with a focus on plant production, is the only one at the register. She, her jelly bracelets, and her underarm flab wave him back towards the kitchen without a second glance as she dances to the rhythm of the morning rush without missing a beat. Sam waves back and lets himself into the kitchen where he finds Gabriel slamming a heap of dough onto the counter with unnecessary force.

Sam leans his hip into the side of the oven and watches, waiting to be noticed. It takes about a minute, but it’s worth it.

“ _ Fuck! _ ” Gabriel nearly beans himself into the eye with his rolling pin as he flails. He recovers quickly and points the rolling pin at him sternly. “I was under the influence. I don’t want to hear a word about yesterday.” Sam opens his mouth, but Gabriel slashes the rolling pin sternly and repeats, “Not a word!”

Sam smiles. “I brought you coffee.”

Gabriel squints suspiciously, but accepts the offered cup, not bothering to remove his flour coated gloves and leaving dusty handprints on the paper cup.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

“It’s the least I could do after you got Dean to finally come around.”

Gabriel perks up at that, a wondering smile taking hold of his lips. “I fucking did, didn’t I?” He takes a sip of the coffee and blanches, reaching for the sugar as he shudders. Sam has to bite his lips to cover his smile.

“I gotta get to work,” he says, taking a couple steps towards the back door rather than suffer the crowd at the front. “ _ Urinal _ is trying to bury me in cases still.”

“I don’t regret that either!” Gabriel waves a finger. “High me is a genius.  _ Comedy gold _ .”

“You called me snuggle sausage,” Sam deadpans.

Gabriel winces. “Okay, so it’s hit or miss.”

“And poopsie doodle.”

Gabriel’s lips twitch. “That one is actually kind of-,”

“No,” Sam says firmly. He opens the door, letting the sunlight stream through the doorway coupled with the echoing clatter of traffic and chattering pedestrians filtering down the alleyway. “Oh and Gabe…” Gabriel turns to fully face him, face guarded. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

His face softens and a reluctant smile plays his lips. “Yeah, yeah you big sap. Get out of here and get on with your fancy briefcase business, love puddle.”

Back in his car, halfway to the office, Sam realizes he’s still smiling.

.

~*~

.

The next few weeks seem to simultaneously fly by and drag on. His morning stops at the bakery seamlessly integrate themselves into his morning routine, brightening his day and giving him something to look forward to for the next. It also helps that Maria and Donny have warmed up to him since that disastrous Monday and for the first time he feels like he has actual allies at work, possibly even friends.

But Uriel is relentless. For every three cases Sam powers through, there are five more getting dropped onto his desk. Maria tells him that it’s nothing personal, that Uriel hates all of them. Her theory is that he’s in love with Anna, but considering Anna is having a child with another man there’s nothing he can do about it but take it out on everyone around him, especially the people Anna likes and Sam falls into that unfortunate category.

He’s beginning to wonder if Uriel is fabricating some of the cases he gives him. He’s waiting for the moment he calls a number and it connects him to a random pay phone outside a grocery store in Toledo, but tonight that’s not his problem. It’s Friday and tonight is date night. They’re doubling with Cas and Dean again and Sam is actually looking forward to it so when the clock strikes five he drops his half read file in his locked cabinet and bolts.

When he gets home, his front door is unlocked and Gabriel is firmly planted on his couch looking like he’s been there awhile.

“You’re the one who showed me where the spare is,” he says in response to Sam’s raised eyebrow through a mouthful of Doritos that he would not have found in Sam’s cupboards. Sam shakes his head and lets it go.

“Unless you want to spend a fortune on theater food, you better feed me,” he says on his way to the bedroom.

“There’s a ham and mozzarella croissant sandwich on the counter, made by yours truly!” Gabe calls after him.

Something warm settles in Sam’s gut and it makes the tips of his fingers tingle. “If you keep spoiling me I’m going to have to find a more affectionate way to show how my appreciation.”

“Don’t tease! Movie starts at 6:15 by the way. If you don’t think you’ll be dressed in time, I’m happy to lend a hand.”

Sam snorts and starts digging clothes out of his dresser. “Somehow I don’t see us getting there any faster if it comes to that.”

“Missing the movie is a sacrifice I am willing to make.”

Sam ducks his head and smiles.


	6. Can I borrow a kiss? I promise I'll give it back.

Half an hour later, he’s riding shotgun in Gabriel’s car, an amazing sandwich is resting in his belly, and he’s wishing he had another.

“You know we’re getting dinner after, right?” Gabriel teases after the third time Sam bemoans his lack of a second. “It’ll hurt Ellen’s feelings if you don’t eat.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam sighs. “It was a really good sandwich though.”

Gabriel beams.

Gabriel is a movie talker. Sam shouldn’t have expected anything less. In fact, he’s had plenty of experience with Gabriel’s commentary during movies, but for some reason, he foolishly expected differently in a theater. He’s quiet enough that only those in his immediate proximity can hear him so it would be fine if Dean wasn’t such a religious follower of theater etiquette. In fact, it’s probably the only place he and Cas haven’t gotten each other off, ironically enough.

Gabriel is either immune to Dean’s death glares or he genuinely doesn’t notice. Either way, they don’t stop him from keeping up an almost constant whispered trivia stream in Sam’s ear, forcing them to huddle together closely to avoid disturbing others. Strangely, Sam doesn’t mind one bit.

After the movie, they split back into couples to make their way to the Roadhouse, Dean shooting one last parting glare over his shoulder at Gabe chatting happily about his favorite scenes. They leave at the same time, but somehow Sam and Gabe make it there long before Dean and Cas, leaving them at Ellen and Jo’s dubious mercy.

The lecture he expects from Ellen on his and Gabriel’s unexpected “engagement” never comes. He assumes Dean must have spilled the beans based on the way his and Gabe’s matching gold bands elicit only a dull passing glance and an unsurprised, “So it’s true. Guess that means beer’s on me, boys. Congratulations.”

Her smile is warm enough, but she’s well aware that Gabriel hates beer so she’s clearly not without her reservations. She doesn’t say anything else before being whisked back to work. Jo, on the opposite hand, shows no such grace or restraint. She can only spare a minute from her Friday night duties and she uses it to storm over in a whirlwind, not giving them air to speak or explain.

“I’m on to you two,” she hisses. “Two people don’t know each other for years and then up and decide to get married out of the blue and don’t give me that bullshit about secretly dating either. Sam, you were just bitching about Dean not seeing the value in being single like a month and a half ago so I don’t believe a fucking word of this. You might have everyone else fooled, but you can’t fool me so don’t even bother to try. Besides, since when are you even gay, Sam?”

Sam’s mouth pops open in shock, but Ellen calls Jo to go seat some new arrivals and she flounces away tossing a sharp glare over her shoulder before he can get his thoughts together enough to respond.

“Well… that went about as well as could be expected,” Gabriel says with a false smile. He slips his hand into Sam’s under the table and Sam gratefully interlaces their fingers.

“Maybe we should let them in on the ruse,” he muses softly. He doesn’t like knowing that he’s hurting them.

“No way,” Gabriel objects. “Jo couldn’t keep from telling her mom something that juicy and there’s no chance Ellen would get behind it.”

“True,” Sam sighs.

Gabriel shifts restlessly in his seat. Sam ignores it until he starts bouncing his leg.

“What?” he snaps, using his free hand to press down on Gabriel’s knee. He stills under Sam’s hand and pulls in a quick breath.

“Jo did have one point that I’ve been sort of curious about myself. I mean, she worded it poorly, but the intent behind the question is valid, I think.”

Sam sighs again and turns to face Gabriel on the bench. “What are you trying to ask, Gabe?”

“Well I mean, I know you’re not  _ gay _ , but…” Gabriel lets the question hang, watching Sam curiously.

“I’m demi,” Sam says and watches as Gabriel’s brow wrinkles and his head tilts in a way that reminds him of Cas. Then his confusion clears and his lips form a round ‘O’ of understanding.

“That explains a lot actually,” he muses, eyes distant. “But wait, how does gender factor in?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t.”

Gabriel smirks. “So you’re pan, like me.”

“ _ No _ , I’m demisexual,” Sam says, sharper than before and Gabriel’s smirk drops like a stone. “I need to form an emotional attachment to someone before I can feel sexually attracted to them. It’s the same whether they’re male or female. That doesn’t make me bisexual or pansexual. It makes me  _ demi _ .”

“Oh,” Gabriel says, brow furrowed as he churns Sam’s explanation over in his mind. After a minute he nods and looks up at him with a silent apology written over his face. “That makes sense. Sorry. I get it now.”

Sam lets go of a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and squeezes his hand reassuringly, “It’s okay.”

They’re quiet for several moments before Sam snorts softly in amusement.

“What?” Gabriel asks.

“We’re lucky Ellen and Jo weren’t here for your proposal. They would have hit the roof.”

Gabriel levels a serious look his way. “You think I would have pulled something like that under Ellen’s nose? No way. I love you, Sammy, but I still value my  _ life _ .”

Sam tips his head back and laughs. That’s when Dean and Cas finally show up, trading small private smiles and holding hands. Dean looks much more relaxed than the last time they saw him… over half an hour ago.

“Oh gag me,” Gabriel mutters into his beer then pulls a face at the flavor and shoves it over to Sam.

“How’d you fellas like the movie? Pretty great, huh?” Gabriel calls out as soon as they’re within hearing range. Dean shoots him a sour look and guides Cas over to the bar to order drinks and let Ellen gush over their rings, which she does enthusiastically and pulls them into a crushing bear hug. A pang flashes in Sam’s chest at the sight and he looks away.

“You know Dean hates it when people talk during movies,” he mutters before sullenly taking a drink of his beer.

Gabriel shoots him a weird look. “Uh, yeah? That’s the whole point of all of this, isn’t it?”

“Right,” Sam backtracks, shaking himself mentally. Of course, that’s what all of this is for. Getting under Dean’s skin. Why does he keep forgetting that? Stupid.

Gabriel’s gaze lingers, long and searching, before he mercifully changes the subject.

“So is toilet guy still busting your balls?”

Dean slides onto the opposite bench with a snort. “Toilet guy,” he chuckles. Cas sits after him.

“Relentlessly,” Sam says and then gives those at the table a considering look. “I’m thinking about quitting actually.”

Dean’s jaw drops, but Sam ignores him in favor of turning to Gabriel and his wide hazel eyes.

“I got some good advice and I figured it’d be in my best interest to listen.” He knocks his knee gently against Gabe’s under the table. Gabe opens his mouth only to close it again, looking touched. It only lasts a moment before his bravado is back in place, but Sam is learning to see beyond the facade.

“About damn time you started listening to my amazing advice, stinky bear.” Gabriel winks and Sam cracks a smile. “Does this mean you’re going to-,”

Sam’s smile drops. “No.”

“You didn’t even let me-,”

“Doesn’t matter. The answer is no.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Wait, wait,” Dean interjects. “I’ve been telling you to quit for months. What did  _ he  _ say to finally convince you?”

Cas places his left hand on Dean’s forearm and says, “Does it matter what was said?” Then he turns to Sam while Dean mutters wordlessly under his breath down towards the glinting ring on Cas’s finger. “I’m happy for you. Do you know what you’d like to do next?”

“Thanks, Cas. I don’t know specifically. That’s why I’m kind of sitting on my resignation,” he admits sheepishly. “I know I want to help people and make a difference and that I’m damn tired of feeling like I’m only helping major corporations hang on to their cash.”

Cas nods thoughtfully, absentmindedly running his thumb over the underside of Dean’s forearm. “Have you considered public interest law?”

Sam heaves a sigh and runs his hand through his hair, letting the strands filter through his fingers before falling back into place. “Yeah, but that’d be a huge paycut and I don’t think I’d be able to swing it with all of my student loans  _ and  _ rent every month. Plus, there’s a lot of competition for those jobs so who knows if I’d even make the cut.”

“What about Gabe?” Dean asks. Sam and Gabe trade looks. Gabe shrugs, seemingly just as nonplussed as Sam.

“I don’t want to work at the bakery,” Sam says slowly.

Dean shoots them both a flat look. “No, that’s not- You’re getting  _ married _ , aren’t you? Are you planning on hanging onto both apartments? And Gabe, correct me if I’m wrong, but the bakery does pretty good for itself. It wouldn’t be an issue to help out the  _ love of your life _ as he goes through a career change and takes a pay cut right? That’s how marriages work, I’m pretty sure.”

Sam swallows thickly. How far are they willing to take this prank? Should he come clean? It’s clearly not working like he’d planned and now he’s managed to rile up Jo and Ellen, too. Logically, he can see this is the end of the line, but… he doesn’t want it to be. The thought alone puts a bitter taste in his mouth. God help him, he doesn’t want it to be over.

Is it still a prank if they move in together? Is it still just to piss Dean off if they start sharing expenses? If they’re going on dates and kissing when no one is there to see, is it still pretend? No. Sam can admit that for him at least, it’s not. When did that happen? And does Gabe feel the same way? He’s never been known to take much of anything seriously, not outside of his bakery anyway. Why would  _ Sam  _ be anything special? Gabe has been messing with him for years, why would it suddenly become real?

“Of course I would,” Gabe says, sounding for all the world like he means it and is offended that Dean would even ask. Gabriel squeezes Sam’s hand, but Sam isn’t sure what he’s trying to communicate. He clenches back anyway. They’re can’t keep this up forever so, for now, he’ll enjoy it while he can.

Dean stares hard at Gabriel, his stony gaze flickering to Sam only for an instant before settling back on Gabriel. “Can I have a word?”

Gabe stills, but a cocky smirk still curls his lips. “Sure, Dean-o. Ask nicely and I might even let you have two.” He winks, but Dean ignores it and they all shuffle to let them out of the booth. Gabriel presses a kiss to Sam’s cheek as he passes by and then he and Dean go out the front door where he can’t see them at all.

“Don’t worry,” Cas says, drawing Sam’s attention back to their suddenly too large table and his one-way-or-another future brother-in-law, “ Dean is warming up to the idea. It will work out.”

Sam nods, but can’t help the sick feeling in his stomach that tells him this has spiraled far beyond his control in a way he had never considered. Time is short. The possibility that things may go back to the way they were before makes him want to puke. How could he stand to be friends with Gabe without the easy touches he’s grown to enjoy?

Looking back, his life seems empty without Gabe in it as he is now. Work and what little family he’s managed to scrounge up for himself (Dean, Cas, Ellen, and Jo) aren’t enough anymore. He wonders how long they haven’t been enough. How long has he been burying himself in work so he doesn’t have to take a good look at his life and see how sad it is? Since before Jess, that’s for sure.

“Oh, here’s the food,” Cas says.

Dean and Gabe arrive back at the same time Ellen stops at the end of their table like she was summoned by magic, a tray of food balanced on her shoulder.

“Did you order for me?” Gabriel asks as he and Dean sit and Ellen drops a platter of chicken tenders in front of him.

“Nobody ordered nothing,” Ellen says as she unloads burgers for Cas and Dean and passes Sam his salad and half turkey sandwich. “I know what my boys like.”

“What if I wanted to branch out?” Gabriel asks around a mouthful of french fry.

“You always order chicken tenders,” Sam points out, passing him a napkin.

“Don’t always,” Gabriel argues.

“Do so. We got Chinese and you ordered sweet and sour chicken without the sweet and sour. That’s basically chicken nuggets.”

“So? It’s still Chinese-,”

“You ate them with ketchup.”

“Nuggets and tenders aren’t even the same thing! They’re completely different!”

Sam raises an eyebrow silently and Gabriel holds his stare.

“You did  _ what  _ to your Chinese food?” Dean asks, breaking the moment.

Gabriel throws up his hands in defeat then pulls his plate closer protectively. “Can’t a man love chicken in peace?”

Sam barks a laugh, drawing a smile out of Gabe. Sam knocks his knee against Gabe’s again and a soft look passes between them. “Eat your chicken,  _ snuggle sausage _ .”

Gabriel groans. “When are you going to let me- Wait, hold on. How come you get to use food pet names and I don’t?”

“Because you like them.”

Gabriel opens his mouth, argument hot on his tongue and then closes it with a disgruntled huff. “Yeah okay.”

“Well, I’m convinced,” Ellen says loudly, shaking her head. “What d’you want to wash down that chicken with lover boy?” Gabriel opens his mouth. “Careful now,” Ellen warns.

Gabriel plasters on his smarmiest, most polite smile and asks, “A long island iced tea? Please?”

Ellen lifts an eyebrow. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Dinner sails smoothly after that, although Sam can’t help but notice Gabriel seems more reserved than usual, especially where Dean is concerned. While Dean and Cas are distracted, he quietly asks what Dean talked to him about, but he only shakes his head.

The drive home is quiet. Gabe is behind the steering wheel and the radio is on a Spanish station that he listens to when everything else is on commercial or he wants something energetic, but tonight he’s introspective, lost in his own universe. He probably doesn’t even realize the radio is on. Sam is dying to know what Dean said to him, but he doesn’t think he’s going to tell him and he doesn’t want to ruin the night by getting pushy. He had fun tonight and he wants to be able to do it again.

Gabriel pulls into the parking lot of Sam’s apartment and shifts into park outside the stairwell. He sits still, staring without seeing out the windshield with a hard frown tugging his mouth.

Sam unlatches his seatbelt with a resounding click.

Gabriel blinks and turns to face him, lips pressed together tightly and face set in stubborn determination. “Can I try something?”

Sam nods, holding his strangely serious gaze. His heart is thudding harshly against his ribs and his lungs feel tight, but he’s not nervous. He doesn’t know what’s going on in that head of his, but he knows he trusts him. When did that happen?

“Hold still,” Gabriel murmurs. He removes his own seatbelt and reaches across the center console until his hands are cradling Sam’s face. Sam leans into the touch and his eyes fall shut, a silent sigh ghosts past his parted lips.

“Sam.” Gabriel waits for him to open his eyes and when Sam does he finds him leaned in close, the streetlight casting orange light over half his face leaving the other in shadow. His eyes are dark and searching. “Is this okay?”

Sam nods, perceptible only thanks to Gabe’s hands holding his face. He fights the urge to swallow, afraid that too much movement will send him away. His heart is beating wildly in his throat, but he trusts him and  _ God _ , he wants this.

As Gabriel leans in, Sam lets his eyes fall shut once more and a coil of anticipation flares in his belly. Their lips brush, tentative and soft and when Gabriel starts to pull back far too soon for Sam’s liking, he’s quick to chase him, an embarrassingly desperate sound vibrating in his throat. He slides his hands through the hair at the base of Gabriel’s skull and holds him steady as he firms the kiss, letting Gabriel’s soft lips relax into his.

Gabriel’s hands slip from Sam’s cheeks to around his neck, pulling him closer. One of them sighs into the kiss; Sam thinks it might have been him.

Gabriel is the one to end the kiss. In a daze, Sam blinks his eyes open to find Gabriel watching him, pupils wide and cheeks flushed. It sends a sharp spike of want through Sam’s core.

“What was that for?” he asks, voice hoarse.

Gabriel licks his lips. There’s a strange expression on his face. His arms are still around Sam’s neck and Sam’s hands are still twined through his hair.

“I wanted to see if you would let me.”

“Oh.” What does that mean? Sam carefully untangles himself from Gabriel and they each return to their own respective sides of the car. The air feels thick. Sam’s mind runs wild with the possibilities. Is this part of the game? Is it something Gabriel has been wanting to do? If so, for how long? Does he get a kick out of the power play? Is it because Sam told him he’s demi? Is he trying to suss out whether Sam has formed an emotional connection with him? Did he suspect Sam has feelings for him and wanted to find out if it’s true? Did he want to see how far Sam would let him go? Sam feels sick. He wouldn’t-

“Can I come in?”

Sam’s heart sinks like a stone. He feels numb. “No,” his mouth says for him. Gabriel nods like he understands- like he’s not even a little surprised or hurt by the answer. Sam’s heart hurts and his mind is a confused muddle of questions that he doesn’t know how to ask. Was that really all the kiss was? Gabriel testing the waters to see if Sam would put out? His throat feels tight. Gabriel wouldn’t do that, surely.

“Can I see you tomorrow?”

Sam hesitates. He wants to say yes. He wants to spend time with Gabriel. He doesn’t want to be wooed into an easy lay. He doesn’t want to come off the day feeling as raw and laid bare as he does now. He doesn’t want to lose him either though.

He bites his lip and looks Gabriel in the eye. He looks anxious now, like Sam’s answer means something.

“Yeah, okay.”

Gabriel smiles, the nerves bleeding from his features more quickly than they’d come. Sam forces one in return. He might not get exactly what he wants, a genuine romantic relationship, but a simple friendship is the next best thing. He can set aside his emotions and focus on what he’s being given. People do it all the time. He won’t have a problem. It might even be easy.

He doesn’t sleep well that night.


	7. Cupid called. He says to tell you that he needs my heart back.

Sam is halfway through his second bowl of cereal when Gabriel lets himself in the front door looking fresh and alert.

“Hey, put that away! We’ve got plans,” he chirps.

Sam slowly turns his face from the blank television screen and holds eye contact as he stuffs an overlarge spoonful into his mouth. Gabriel sticks his hands on his hips and purses his lips.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” he muses. Sam only scowls, chewing furiously. “Tell you what, our plans don’t necessarily have a set time frame so let’s take our time getting around and give you time to wash off that funk you’re hauling around.”

Gabriel nods decisively in agreement with his own statement and then sets to puttering about in the kitchen. Sam wrinkles his nose when he pulls out the infamous box of Golden Puffs but says nothing. He’s tired and grumpy, but he doesn’t want to be alone. He wants to spend time with Gabriel, but him waltzing in like he owns the place is a kick to the ribs. He’s still a little raw from the night before.

He fishes the last few spoonfuls from his bowl and tips the remaining milk into his mouth before he shuffles into the kitchen, passing Gabriel on his way to the living room with his nasty cereal. Sam jumps as Gabriel lightly smacks his backside as he goes by and takes a fortifying breath before dumping his bowl and spoon in the sink.

He leaves Gabriel on the couch with his gross bowl of Ew and the TV playing Saturday morning cartoons and retreats to the bathroom. He sits on the closed toilet for a long time, resting his head against the wall with his eyes lightly closed and trying not to think. It’s not difficult. Eventually, he reaches over and starts the water in the tub.

After a long shower, he feels more human, ready to take on the day with an even keel and… well, maybe not a sunny disposition, but he thinks he can handle whatever Gabriel is about to throw at him. Still, he can’t quite shake the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach every time he thinks about why Gabriel would have kissed him and then basically asked Sam to bed. He’s sure Gabriel hasn’t let this fake relationship get to him the way it has Sam, but he hadn’t thought he would take it to that level, not like that.

Shaking off the lingering thoughts of last night, Sam tries to focus on the day ahead. They are friends going out on a friendly outing as friends. They’re friends and that’s what they were before all of this so logically it shouldn’t be difficult for Sam to revert back to that way of thinking. He can be happy being just friends. He just needs to roll with the punches and take it a day at a time. Everything is fine. It’s going to be fine.

Hell, if he wants, he can think of it as future-brother-in-law bonding time. It’s not a nice thought.

.

~*~

.

The day ends up taking him somewhere he least expects, the Cinco de Mayo festival in Kansas City, just in time for the chihuahua parade.

“You know,” Sam interrupts Gabe’s 20 minutes and still going gushing over a guy who came in last week to pick up an order of pupcakes for his dog’s birthday party, “if this was an American celebration at least half of these dogs would be dressed like hot dogs”. He watches a dog in a pinata costume roll past on a skateboard tugged along after a girl with her long dark hair hanging down her neck in a thick braid while wearing a traditional wide skirted and brightly colored dress and hot pink Hello Kitty roller blades.

Gabriel snorts. “Where is the lie,” he muses. “But, I’ve seen at least half a dozen taco dogs and double that in the Taco Bell dog costumes so I’m not sure America’s influence is entirely absent.”

“Gidget,” Sam supplies distractedly as he does a double take on a young boy walking a pig in a sombrero, completely missing the incredulous look Gabriel shoots his way. “How are they dressed like her? She didn’t have a costume.”

“They’re chihuahuas wearing Taco Bell hats.” Gabriel shrugs. “Anyway, I’m starving. Let’s get churros.”

Sam turns away from the parade to say, “there was a truck on the way in that was selling mango on a stick. Can we stop there too?”

“Course! What kind of date would I be to say no?”

Sam’s stomach flips and he quickly turns away lest Gabriel catch the pained grimace he is convinced crosses his face.  _ It was a joke _ , he assures himself.  _ It’s just Gabe being Gabe. Don’t read into it. _

They get food and walk around for awhile, checking out different vendors and eating their weight in tacos. Gabriel makes friends with everyone he talks to and Sam is relieved that he can stand back and watch with a smile and not be overcome with jealousy as he has in the past. He also has Gabriel teach him how to say, “I’m sorry about my friend” and uses the phrase “ _ Lo siento por mi novio _ ,” profusely as they travel from stall to stall, earning him odd looks at times. Gabriel makes fun of him for knowing Latin better than Spanish to which Sam protests, “I didn’t say it was a practical choice!”

Impulsively, Gabriel buys a bright red, green, yellow, and purple sombrero with little red balls dangling all around the rim and plops it on Sam’s head, despite his protests of cultural appropriation. The woman selling them waves away his concerns and tells him he looks  _ hermoso  _ to which Gabriel agrees heartily and tells him is a good thing.

Not for the first time, Sam wishes he would have learned a more prevalent language than Latin, but he leaves the sombrero on until late in the afternoon when the back of Gabriel’s neck starts turning pink under the warm spring sun. Without much thought, he removes the overlarge hat and drops it on Gabriel’s head mid-negotiation with a plump woman with iron-gray hair, a wide mouth, and sharp eyes who goes by Catalina Abuela or simply  _ abuela _ .

Sam hadn’t been paying much attention, knowing simply that Gabriel took one bite of her lemon carlota and decided he needed to sell them in his bakery. Only after Gabriel looks up to flash a grateful smile before diving right back into their discussion does Sam glance over the rough contract Gabriel is sketching out on a napkin. He squints and tips his head to the side as he reads.

“You should add a clause that states  _ Slice of Heaven _ is liable for any disputes of the product quality,” he says after a minute.

Gabriel cranes his neck to blink up at him, sending the red balls ringing the rim of the sombrero swinging. Sam rolls his eyes. “That way if someone gets an upset tummy after eating one they can’t sue her as an individual.”

“They’d sue me instead,” he concludes and narrows his eyes playfully. “Just whose side are you on, Winchester?”

“I’m the law and the law is impartial.”

“Yeah, yeah, lawyer-boy. No need for the high horse. You can keep it in its stall.” Gabriel smiles warmly and turns back to abuela to translate Sam’s proposed addition. Her brow is furrowed as Gabriel explains in imperfect Spanish and then clears in understanding.

She nods to the napkin and says, “Si, por favor,” and then turns to Sam with a gracious nod and says, “Gracias”.

Sam startles. “Oh uh, de nada,” he says, nearly exhausting his knowledge of the language. He smiles and she smiles back before resuming her conversation with Gabriel. Thirty minutes later both parties are pleased with their agreement and they depart with smiles and waves on both sides.

The sun is sinking by the time they’re getting back into Gabriel’s car, tired and full and satisfied. The car ride back to Lawrence is quiet, but pleasantly so. There isn’t any pressure to make conversation and Sam finds himself happy to lean his head back into the seat and let the sounds of traffic and the dim hum of the radio soothe him into a foggy not quite asleep state.

The next thing he knows Gabriel is softly crooning in his ear, “Saaammmyyyy we’re hoooooome”.

Sam groans and sits up, rubbing his eyes. His heart skips a beat as he realizes that it’s dark and they’re parked in front of the stairwell of his apartment building. The streetlamp is casting an orange glow over half of Gabriel’s face, leaving the rest in shadow. Sam unfastens his seatbelt with a click and moves to put his back to the passenger door, also putting space between himself and Gabe. Gabe’s expression flickers at the move, but he remains where he is, angled toward Sam with his right arms resting across the passenger seat.

“It’s late,” Sam waffles. It’s hardly after eight. “I should go.” He cracks open his door and stumbles out before Gabriel can stop him. In the crisp outside air it’s easier to think and hold on to the few things Sam knows to be true. One: he wants more from Gabe than Gabe wants from him. And, two: letting Gabe kiss him again will only end in catastrophe.

“Sam,” Gabriel calls after him, clambering out of his own door. “Did I do something wrong?”

Sam shakes his head, frowning. “No, I uh, I had a great time.”

A small hopeful smile lights up Gabriel’s face. “Yeah? Me too. Does that mean we can do this again sometime?”

“Yeah. Course,” Sam agrees without hesitation. Relief washes over Gabriel’s features before he hitches up a cocky smile and quirks an eyebrow.

“Unless I’m mistaken, great dates are usually followed up with a goodnight kiss,” he says, waggling his eyebrows.

Sam rolls his eyes, ignoring the pained skip of his heart in his chest. “Ha ha. Do you think you’ll ever get tired of that joke?”

Gabriel’s face falls and he takes a step back, staring at Sam with wide eyes. “Joke?” he parrots woodenly.

Sam frowns. “Isn’t it? I mean, I think we both know you’re not exactly looking for a relationship.”

Gabriel stares at Sam like he’s never seen him before- No, worse, like he thought he knew him and is only now finding out he’s been an imposter this whole time. He opens his mouth only to close it again then shakes his head, face falling into a stoic mask. He turns away, his shoulders hunched and rigid.

“Gabe, I-,” Sam doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what’s going on. He can’t put his thoughts together over the high-pitched ringing white noise between his ears and the panicked rabbiting of his heart.

“Don’t.”  Gabriel doesn’t look at Sam as he gets into his car and closes the door behind him. Sam should go after him. He should ask what Gabriel wants and tell him what he wants and what he’s been thinking, but his feet have grown roots and he can’t feel his legs; they may as well be concrete pillars.

Gabriel drives away and Sam does nothing to stop him. Does this mean Gabriel wanted more from Sam too? He didn’t know. He honestly didn’t. How could he be so wrong?

That’s twice now a Winchester has rendered Gabriel Novak speechless, only Sam doesn’t feel like bragging.


	8. I'm lost. Can you tell me which road leads to your heart?

Two weeks go by and Sam doesn’t hear a word from Gabe. Work is worse than ever without the impromptu dates (he can admit now, that’s what they were), morning stops at the bakery, and intermittent text messages. He hasn’t received a single cat picture, youtube link, or pick-up line in weeks and it’s slowly driving him crazy. He hadn’t realized how integrated Gabe had become in his life until he was suddenly cut from it entirely.

He calls every day, waiting for the day Gabe picks up the phone, but he never does. After the first two, it starts going to voicemail after the first couple rings. Sam deserves it every time Gabe ignores his calls, but he hates it. Gabe has been throwing himself at Sam’s feet and happily eating up every tiny scrap of affection Sam has tossed his way for years. It’s Sam’s fault for taking him for granted and not opening his eyes to how Gabe must really feel about him and he hates that too.

What he hates the most, is that after everything the only things he has to prove the past month happened at all is a stick, a used toothbrush, a mostly full bottle of mouthwash, and a half empty box of Golden Puffs in his cupboard. He despises the stick. He threw it out the window after Gabe ignored his call for the third time and then had to go down all four flights of stairs to go get it and bring it back up. Stupid stick.

He can’t look at the toothbrush. He spends as little time in the bathroom as possible to avoid it. He wets his own toothbrush and applies his toothpaste and then wanders the apartment while brushing, only returning when it’s time to spit. And the cereal… it taunts him. It’s like a kick in the face every time he opens his cupboard and finds it sitting there, exactly where Gabriel left it that last morning before their last date- before Sam screwed everything up by being an idiot. It’s crooked, taking up more space than it should, but Sam hasn’t touched it. If he moves it then it’ll erase one of the last imprints of Gabe he has left. It’s stupid and illogical, but he still hasn’t moved the box, and the bowls they used that morning are still sitting in the drainer where Gabe left them after he washed them.

It’s Saturday afternoon, the two week anniversary of their not-break-up and Sam hasn’t showered, hell, he hasn’t even gotten dressed. Instead, he chooses to lounge around in his boxers, not even his favorite ones. He thinks maybe they will make him feel better because they’re clean if nothing else, but when he goes to grab them, needing the comfort to get through another long lonely weekend, he finds that they aren’t there. Only then does he remember that Gabe never returned them.

It’s the final straw. Anger buoys him, carrying him through the task of throwing on clothes and the drive across town to Gabe’s place all the way up to the buzzer. How ridiculous is it that Gabe not only knows the passcode to get into Sam’s apartment complex, but he knows where Sam keeps the spare key all the while Sam doesn’t know the first thing about getting into Gabe’s apartment when he’s not there.

He hits the buzzer five times before he thinks to check the parking lot. Gabe’s car isn’t here. He wants to hit himself. It’s Saturday. Gabe always works Saturday mornings when he doesn’t have anything better to do. He’s probably working late. Sam considers hunting him down at work, but he doesn’t want to make a scene, not at the bakery and not over underwear and a make-believe relationship.

Instead, he sits down on the stoop and waits. Typically, Gabe goes in early and gets the baking started for the day, then helps out with the morning rush before going home. Technically he doesn’t have to do that much even, having put in over 40 hours for the week easy already, but it’s his bakery and he wants it to flourish so he goes the extra mile.

Sam is such an idiot. How could he just dismiss his advances as being anything but genuine? Sure, he may act like an overgrown child, but he’s got his act together more than Sam does.

Hours pass and Sam gets bored of playing Tetris on his phone and his battery is almost dead. Clearly, Gabe doesn’t like being home alone with his thoughts any more than Sam does, but sitting on Gabe’s stoop, smiling awkwardly at everyone who passes him by to enter the building, gives him plenty of time to think, to plan. So he waits, leaving only briefly to gather some necessary supplies when it becomes obvious that Gabe isn’t in any hurry to get home, and when he finally shows, Sam is ready.

Gabe sees him right away of course. Sam perks up as he watches Gabe’s car carefully maneuver into the drive around Frank, headlights swinging in a graceful arch through the twilight, and then pulls into a parking spot. His nerves flutter anxiously as Gabriel continues to sit in the car. Should he stand? No, he should stay sitting, let Gabe decide whether or not he’s welcome without Sam lording his height over him. What if he’s not ready to see him? What if he gets out of his car and sees Sam and gets right back in? Should he chase him this time? Should he let him go again? How is he supposed to know what to do?

Gabe’s car door opens after less than a minute and Sam’s anxious thoughts come to a screeching halt, or rather, morph into a wordless silent scream. Gabe shuts his door and turns to face his building and stops, clapping eyes on Sam instantly. Sam swallows thickly, but stays in place, waiting to see what Gabe will decide to do. Even from across the parking lot, Sam can see the knee jerk flicker of movement as he reaches back for the door, but then he stops and visible steels himself before making his way across the parking lot with a forced nonchalant stride.

He stops in front of Sam, face guarded and frame stiff. Sam’s throat is thick and his tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth so instead of arguing his case, he holds out his hand where a single lime rests in his clammy palm.

Gabe stares at it. Then very carefully, he accepts it, reaching down to take it from Sam’s hand and then reads the words painstakingly printed on the peel in black marker under the dim orange glow of the streetlight.

‘ _ Will you be my boyfriend? _ ’

“What is this?” Gabriel asks, his voice quiet and rough and nothing like the rambunctious babble Sam has grown accustomed to.

“It’s uh,” Sam clears his throat and wipes his hands on the sides of his thighs. His heart is pounding. “It’s a pick-up lime.”

Gabe stares down at the lime in his hand and very gradually his shoulders start to droop and his face softens into something that looks like pain. Sam bites his lip and shifts uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts. He clenches and unclenches his hands, unsure of what to do with them before finally he stuffs them between his thighs. He can’t bring himself to look at Gabe so when he speaks, it’s to the lime. “I’m such an idiot. And an asshole, I really am. I deserve months of the silent treatment if that’s what you want to give me, but I-,” His voice cracks and he forces himself to look Gabe in the eye for this part even though Gabe is still staring blankly at the lime. “I want to give us a go for real. I promise I’ll take you seriously and I’ll be caring and considerate and everything I wasn’t before. I’ll do it right this time… If you still want me that is.”

Gabe looks up at him then and Sam lets out the breath he’s been holding when he sees the glimmer of hope behind his eyes.

“You were an asshole.”

“Yeah. I was.”

“And an idiot.”

“Yeah.”

“But you’re  _ my  _ idiot.”

A slow smile starts across Sam’s face and Gabe matches it.

“Yeah?” Sam questions gently.

“Yeah.” Gabriel’s eyes are soft and warm like honey as he searches Sam’s face and the tight lines beside his mouth relax. “Now come inside you big dumb ape. You look half frozen.”

Sam pulls a face and accepts Gabe’s hand as he stiffly gets to his feet, his back and bottom protesting all the while. He’s getting old. Gabe releases his hand to punch in the code and open the door.

“I think I like the food pet names better,” he grumbles.

Gabe whirls to face him, almost dropping the door on himself. “Does that mean-?”

“No. No food names.”

Gabe scoffs. “Tease.”

.

~*~

.

The next two weeks are a night and day difference compared to the previous two. Sam harasses Gabe night and day via text getting to know the real him better and planning their first  _ real  _ date in secret. On top of that, they spend most of their free time together and Sam can tell Gabe suspects he’s up to something, but he doesn’t ask and Sam doesn’t tell.

Finally, in early June, Sam shakes Gabe awake at the ass crack of dawn and tells him to dress warm, despite the high forecast for the day. Gabe blinks blearily at him and then at the dark window where the sun has yet to rise. Sam smiles and swoops down to press a soft kiss to Gabe’s lips and murmurs, “ _ It’s time for your surprise _ ”.

Getting him out of bed after that is easy, not that he expected to have much trouble. On weekdays Gabe is up earlier than this to start up the ovens at the bakery. They’re out the door in record time, only making one stop at the cafe on the other side of town for fruit and waffles to go. Then Sam drives them out of town, past farmland and over creeks as they munch on their breakfasts. Gabe gets more and more restless the farther they go, nearly bouncing in his seat. It’s contagious and soon Sam finds himself excitedly jumping his left leg up and down.

But Gabe never asks where they’re going, only when they’re going to get there.

“We’re almost there,” Sam promises.

He pulls onto a small dirt road lined thickly with trees, large oaks and tall pines. They emerge from the trees into a wide flat plot of land that seems to stretch almost to the horizon, in the center of which is a bright red, gold, and blue hot air balloon laying on the ground waiting to be inflated for take-off.

Gabe makes a sound in the back of his throat like a wounded animal and when Sam glances over he sees his eyes are fixed on the balloon, wide and awestruck. Sam pulls off onto the shoulder behind a large black pickup pulling a trailer with a brightly colored company logo on it and puts the car in park.

“Are we really-?”

“Yep.”

Gabriel leaps at Sam only for his seat belt to lock and throw him back into his seat. With a laugh, Sam depresses the button, releasing the belt and Gabriel from its clutches. He looks back up just in time to catch him as he hurls himself into Sam’s lap and mashes their lips together, pecking exuberantly.

Gabriel pulls back, holding Sam’s face between his hands. “You are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.”

Sam loosely circles his fingers around Gabe’s wrists and leans into his touch. “I’m trying to be.”

Gabe melts for all of two seconds before his face cracks back into a grin and he pops open the driver door over Sam’s shoulder. “Don’t go getting all sappy on me now. We’ve got a hot air balloon to ride!”

He bolts from the car, nearly kneeing Sam in a highly sensitive area as he claws his way to freedom.

“Hey! Slow down!” Sam shouts at his back, tugging off his own seat belt before hurrying after him. “Wait for me, asshat!”

“Last one there has to ride in the back!” Gabe takes off in a sprint, kicking up dust in his wake.

“The b- THERE IS NO BACK! IT’S A  _ BASKET _ !” Sam bellows before giving chase, his long strides finding their match in Gabe’s quick rapid steps.

The view from the air is amazing. There are creeks, farmland, deep rolling hills, and they ghost along the tops of the trees. Sam has to grab Gabe by the back of his jacket to keep him from falling out when he overextends trying to pluck a leaf as they sail by.

“Don’t do that,” Sam orders, the back of his jacket still clutched protectively in his fist as his heart jackrabbits in his chest.

Gabe ignores him, turning out of his grip and holds out the perfect tree star. “For you,” he says.

Sam’s fear is pushed aside by the almost overwhelming warmth that floods through him all the way to his toes at the simple gift. He accepts the leaf (he’ll press it into a book when he gets home) and the kiss that follows before Gabe is swept up once more into his adventure. He turns away and his attention is caught by a bicyclist passing below.

“HELLLLOOOOOOO! GOOD MORNING!” Gabe bellows obnoxiously and waves jauntily when the bicyclist stops and gives a halting wave in return.

It doesn’t occur to Sam until late that night when he’s lying in bed with Gabriel passed out and wrapped snugly against his chest that the only gifts he has received from him are a leaf and a stick.

.

~*~

.

“So what’s the latest on the big day?”

“The what?” Sam painfully drags his focus from the book he was fully immersed in, to Dean’s half heard question.

Dean rolls his eyes where he sits snuggled in close to Cas on the sofa opposite Sam in their living room. He’d offered to make Sam dinner tonight, citing that he hasn’t seen much of him lately and wanted to know “what the fuck is going on with the whole job schtick,” quote, unquote. Sam officially started his new job a week ago and it’s already amazing. He is treated with respect for one thing and hasn’t had to come home later than six a single time. It’s awesome.

They’ve since finished eating and Sam is waiting for Gabe to pick him up on his way back from the grocery store, Sam’s car finally having died for good.

“Your  _ wedding _ , dumbass,” Dean says.

“Oh, there isn’t a wedding,” Sam says distractedly, nose reinserting itself into his book. The characters are in the middle of pulling the greatest heist that’s never been done before and he can’t abandon them now.

“What?! You broke up?” Dean demands.

“No. We weren’t actually together. I was trying to piss you off, but it didn’t work,” Sam mumbles. Another wrinkle. How much can go wrong? What if they can’t-?

“Fucking- Can you put down the book for two seconds!” Dean snaps. Sam heaves a frustrated sigh and lowers the book to his lap, marking his place with his forefinger.

“ _ What? _ ”

“... so you’re not together?”

Sam exhales sharply through his nose. Cas is watching him curiously while Dean looks more like a bull ready to charge. “No, we  _ are _ . I just asked him out a like a month ago.”

Dean throws his arms up over his head, narrowly missing Cas’s ear and heaves himself to his feet. “You two are fucked up. Forget I asked.” He leans down to leave a kiss on Cas’s head and says, “I’m gonna start on the dishes.” Then he turns back to Sam. “Later, bitch.”

“Just let me read my book, jerk.”

Dean rolls his eyes again and disappears into the kitchen. Once the soft clattering of dishes reaches their ears Cas says, “so it worked then?”

Sam frowns. “What worked?”

“Your date at the Art Center,” Castiel says, face inscrutable as ever.

“Our- That wasn’t supposed to be a date,” Sam stammers then quickly grows suspicious. “What do you know about that?”

Castiel raises his eyebrows like it should be obvious. “I lied to Gabriel and told him Dean and I were going so that he would take you and the two of you would have some time alone to work out your feelings. I knew you weren’t truly engaged, but the fact that you would humor him led me to believe there might be something there after all.”

Sam’s jaw drops and his face flushes hot with mortification. “I- You didn’t have to do that.”

Castiel tilts his head to the side like a curious bird. Holding his stare is as unnerving as holding eye contact with a hawk. “Yes, I did. Gabriel has been in love with you for a very long time, Sam.”

“Crushing, you mean,” Sam corrects, mouth dry and heart beating wildly. “He’s had a crush on me for a long-,”

“No,” Castiel says. “I know my brother. He loves you and that gives you the power to break his heart. Don’t.” Castiel’s gaze is fierce and unrelenting. All Sam can do is nod. Cas leans back into the couch. “Thank you, Sam.”

“Uh, sure.” Did he just get the overprotective brother speech from weird quiet  _ Castiel _ ?? He thinks he did. No, he definitely did.

A loud yell and the sound of something shattering cleaves through the resulting quiet. Sam ducks his head and lifts his book to shield his triumphant grin.

“SAAAMM!” Dean bellows.

Sam snickers quietly and avoids Cas’s curious eyes as he strides past to help Dean, tan bathrobe billowing in his wake.

Sure, it’s not as intricate or detailed as Plan A, but Plan B, hiding fake cockroaches in the dirty sink, works in a pinch, not to mention, it’s satisfying as hell.

 

[](http://imgur.com/HfQ74Cq)   
[](http://imgur.com/yp6afsW)


End file.
